The Rapport That Binds Us
by Out Live a Lie
Summary: In whole, it had been sudden, the death of the Eminent. Still something she had yet to come to terms with even as she stood amongst the roses, black cloth hanging from the windows and the single balcony of Colwen Grounds [Gelphie. Booksical. SEQUEL].
1. Chapter 1

**So here it is, at long last, the sequel to **_**The Bonds That Tie Us**_**. Sorry it has taken so long, hopeful it won't disappoint though as I always do, I worry it will.**

**Anyway, if you have any constructive criticism feel free to message me here or on my Tumblr. Or if you just want to yell at me for what I have written, I'll even take that :)**

**I hope you will enjoy it.**

* * *

One moment people had been crowded around the stage, cheers and applause echoing in the early Summer air. It brightened the already brilliant day into one that would surely remain clear in anyone's mind for some time to come. The smiling faces of young and old, all brought together for the greater good, to help those less fortunate than they. The beaming expressions of the orphans who had lost their parents in, and to, the mines towards the north, finally given a spark of hope in their otherwise dismal lives. Finally able to smile for the first time in so long, they seemed almost confused by it.

Yes, surely it would be a day long remembered. Though, perhaps, not for the reasons they once believed. For the moment, like many, was short-lived.

_Crash!_

Screaming, shouting, the stampeding sound of footsteps as the congregation broke, running in all directions. The wailing of children and adults alike filling the air until it became stiflingly, claustrophobic even though they were outside. They ran and fell, littering the ground with their bodies.

Rubble rained down on their forms, bruising and cutting, painting the grass with greys and browns and whites.

Chaos.

Amongst it all, the sound of a confused, young voice called for help, lost beneath the weight of everything else.

* * *

In whole, it had been sudden, the death of the Eminent. Still something she had yet to come to terms with even as she stood amongst the roses, black cloth hanging from the windows and the single balcony of Colwen Grounds.

The funeral itself was a rather private affair, with only those closest to Nessarose or those in positions of importance attending. There were few people there Glinda knew, and so she remained on her own for the most part, for once not embarrassed by the breaking of social norms. Though that did not mean she did not feel awkward, for she did. As such she made her way through the rows of flowers, untouched by the fierce storm that took place only a short distance away, in search for a familiar greying figure.

She did not fully understand the pull she felt, the one leading her to seek someone she had very rarely purposeful sought out before. Perhaps it was due to her understanding of what he was going through, an innate desire to seek one who was now shouldering pain she herself had felt not too long ago. For her sorrow now, for Nessarose, was not as great as the sorrow she had felt those few years ago. She cared for Nessie, had become friends in their mutual loss, though they had drifted apart in the past years. Her connection with her Ama, on the other hand, had only strengthened during their time apart. A connection that would never break, only grow stronger with age.

In a secluded corner she found him alone and quiet.

It took her back to their first meeting, or rather the first time they met one another in person. It had been late at night, she once again found sleep was a distance goal, one she could not grasp easily, so she wandered the halls, planning to while away some time in the library of all things.

She had opened the door, and there he sat. Head bowed, and hands cupping some poor wooden bird that appeared to have been chewed by some young wild animal. A pose he was now replicating in the present, as if the memory had become real and appeared before her.

At first there had been a sense of distain towards her, not for her personally, but for her people. A bigotry towards the Gilikinese as a whole. Something she had come to see as a common opinion amongst the Munchkins. But, as they had come to know one another, that bigotry faded away until they had a mutual respect between them – if not a pleasant familiarity of sorts. Like… well, like family in a way.

She took in his wavering form, his figure hunched far beyond its years as he rested his weight on a sturdy cane. His hair swept back, tied, and beard trimmed as normal, but now its colour almost fully overtaken by grey.

Glinda approached cautiously, though she made sure Frexspar knew of her approach by clearing her throat daintily, but loudly. His hearing was failing quite rapidly nowadays.

Once by his side, she rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, a gesture of support she hoped, "Frexspar?"

He did not respond at first, too absorbed in his own thoughts and sorrow that Glinda wondered if he was even aware of her presence at all.

She almost jumped when he spoke.

"First Turtle Heart…" His voice cracked, his words weighed down as much as his frame now was. Glinda ensured that her hand and posture remained strong, as if her stability could pass over to the man beside her, strengthening and supporting him, "My dear Melena, my oldest child…" He sighed heavily, his misty eyes downcast, "And now Nessa. It seems I am fated to be alone."

"I understand." For now she did, if only distantly.

He turned his head to her, lifting it slightly as he smiled weakly at her, "At least I still have you and my son."

She returned his smile, though hers was far firmer, as he looked once more to the open expense beyond the hedges, "Surely you mean your son and his wife?"

"Do not belittle yourself so." He turned his glassy eyes to her again; even now his face bore none of the familiar signs of Nessarose, nor Elphaba, something she was, in that moment, greatly thankful for. Selfish of her perhaps, but it made things easier to deal with. To push aside.

He lifted a hand to rest against her own, squeezing weakly.

"You have grown, more than I imagined possible."

The words could easily be interpreted as a veiled insult, but she knew it not to be that way. Not with Frexspar. Not now.

"I would like some time alone." He shifted his weight, taking an unsteady step forward, moving from under her hand as he did, "Will you escort me to the Sunroom?"

"Of course." As she moved forward, he stuck the elbow of his spare arm out, an offer she politely took. Ever the gentleman was Frexspar, even as he grew older. She slid her arm through his and they began the slow and careful walk out of the rose gardens and towards the main building in a comfortable silence.

* * *

"Lady Glinda?"

She turned at the voice, brows raised in her surprise, a reaction she covered up swiftly when her eyes landed on Genfee's familiar shinning head.

"Yes?" She asked, hiding her displeasure at being interrupted, she would much rather have been left alone for the day to come to terms with her sudden loss. The other business she was now responsible for could wait, if only for a day.

Though perhaps that was not wise.

She could not hole up in her room and ignore her responsibilities, nor could she rightly continue about as if nothing had happened. She had duties now. Something she had to remind herself of. When a leader is lost, so too become the people.

They needed a leader and, she supposed, she was that leader now. As such, she was unsurprised when Genfee informed her that The Council of Munchkinland were awaiting her presence in the main study of Colwen Grounds.

She followed after the Munchkin, struggling to push down her annoyance that The Council had the cheek to go to the main study to wait for her, rather than the drawing room as was polite. Even the normally mild mannered Genfee seemed irritated as he broke proper manners to tug at his beard like a teenager unsure of what to do, or an ill-mannered peasant.

Genfee led her to the study she was well aware of, entering before her to state her arrival before hurrying back out of the room, leaving Glinda alone with the occupants.

The men, all Munchkins save one, were a mixture of advisors and powerful landowners. She recognised some of them from when she still resided at Colwen Grounds. One in particular, a Munchkin with a shockingly dark toupee and grey eyebrows, was a particularly outspoken individual who had attempted to convince Nessarose to abdicate and abolish the position of Eminent. Showing the familiar stubbornness of the Thropp's, Nessarose had refused again and again, month after month, until the Munchkin had finally dropped the matter. Seemingly resigned in his loss.

Ah. With those memories resurfacing she had a certain theory of just where this conversation was heading.

And with Nessarose only a few hours in the ground.

Vultures, the lot of them.

She did not greet them straight away, instead walking to the large desk in the room, hesitating before deciding not to sit down. Instead, she lifted her head even higher, exaggerating her height advantage and rested her hands on the back of the chair.

"What can I help you with?"

A Munchkin with oversized eyebrows and narrow eyes cleared his throat, taking a step forward as he did, "We, err, wished to broach a subject with you." He began, scratching at his throat with a fat finger when he paused, "With the Eminent dead and the condition of Munchkinland at present, we thought it most important."

"That I understand." And Glinda did, Nessarose does – did her best, but all realms have problems that will rear their heads no matter what actions a leader takes. Do one action, certain problems arise, take the opposite action and different problems arise instead. There was no winning, only slightly less problematic losses, "But Nessarose passed only the other day, was buried barely a few hours prior to this moment. Surely it can wait until at least tomorrow morn."

Eyebrows, for his part, had the decency to look ashamed. The other men suddenly seemed a little more apprehensive, all aside from the toupee wearing Munchkin.

Toupee stepped towards the desk, tilting his head up and squaring his chin as if that would make an impression, "There can be no waiting. The time to take action is now."

He punctuated his words with a slam of a palm on the dark wood of the desk separating them, his pale brows drawn low.

"Am I incorrect?" He turned to the five individuals behind him, gesturing with his hands. They all nodded their agreement, though Eyebrow's head moved more hesitantly.

The only Munchkinlander there, though closer to a Munchkin in height, spoke next, his face tightly constricted, "He is right. There can be no more waiting when Munchkinland is need of a firm guiding hand."

Glinda lifted a single brow, "You do not believe I am skilled enough to replace Nessarose?"

Toupee shock his head, sending the hair upon his head askew, he opened his mouth, but she cut him off –

"This is about abolishing the title again, isn't it? Well that will _not _happen." She had not meant to snap, but after all that had happened in the past week could she really be blamed for doing so? She had lost a friend, an ally, for Lurline's sake!

She took a breath, and willed herself to calm. Unfortunately, that did not last long, Toupee instead continuing on in spite of her clear refusal.

"The Eminent did not leave a Will; as such she did not restate what is to happen when she dies."

"Something that is not required."

"I think you will find –

"Something that is_ not_ required," she stressed the words this time, trying to get it to stick in his think skull, "Not with a tradition of this sort."

The men in the room seemed to shrink at her words, apparently beginning to see that they would not be able to exert their power over her as they originally thought. All expect one.

Toupee hit the surface of the desk with both hands this time, his lips curled back over his teeth.

Another, his stomach protruding obscenely, gained courage at this, stepping forward besides his colleague, "How do we know you're not in league with that Gillikinese Adept? How do we know that she wasn't sent her to dispose of The Eminent? To use that girl as a scapegoat when it didn't end up looking like an accident?"

"What happened was a freak accident; there is no evidence to the contrary." Glinda repeated, having grown long tired of such rumours. Ones that had only began a few days ago.

"Then why did she run away?"

Glinda's lips pressed into a thin line, her composure failing as her anger grew steadily more apparent; something that was not recognised by Toupee.

"Your kind cares nothing for us, your hand will be far too soft," he snarled, "It is time _we_ controlled our futures, no more interference from _others_."

"Is this to do with my _heritage_?!" The pitch of her voice dropped, the last word hissed rather than spoken. The other occupants of the room visibly stepped back this time, even the raging Munchkin before her, "You are trying to find a loophole in a centuries old practice, one that has only been strengthen with time, because I am Gillikinese?!"

"Err –

"And Nessarose? Why did you want her to abolish the Title?" For their reasons had been much the same as the ones they confronted her with, only when they were brought up with Nessie the reasons were weaker, with much less evidence to back them up. Now most of the problems came from the pressure placed upon Munchkinland by Loyal Oz, something that could not be easily controlled or rectified, until now that is. For she was in charge now. "Because of her association with me? Is that it?"

"This has nothing to do with race." Thick beads of sweat were forming on the creases of his forehead, rolling down his face sluggishly, "You are simply not a native, you don't understand what Munchkinland needs."

"That was supposed to convince me that this has nothing to do with race?" The bigoted fool. Her knowledge on Nessarose's parenthood was only known by a few, but her pinkish skin might have given rise to a rumour that Glinda had not heard. If that was true, then maybe race played a part with their attempts to oust Nessie also. Then again, Munchkins were not very good at keeping secrets, nor were they all that subtle, so she doubted they were aware that Nessie had been half Quadling.

Flustered and sweating more profusely, Toupee, pressed a handkerchief to his brow, his cheeks burning bright, "I – that isn't –

He spluttered, the others remained silent, their eyes wide and faces pale. Eyebrows edged towards the door with the carefulness of one confronted by an enraged beast.

Perhaps it was wrong of her to twist things, for surely they did have a slight point buried deep beneath their bigotry, but – for reasons she could not discern – she would not let them take what was now rightfully hers. She had been through enough to get this far, lost too much too quickly, only to now lose the only thing left for her to gain.

"The Title will continue down the line, as it has for generations." She raised her chin, straightened her shoulders to put forth the image of pure power and authority that she needed to get across to these men, "In the future there may be time for discussions of concessions, the possibility for reducing the powers of the Eminent, maybe to the point of only being a figurehead."

The group's unofficial leader's throat bobbed rapidly as he tried to swallow his words, tried to grab them from the space between them and stuff them back inside, to force them down and pray they had never been released into the air.

"Until then, I remain. Munchkinland needs to know that they have someone in charge. Someone they can voice any concerns to, someone to look up to in this dark time. Surely even you can understand the benefit? See past your self-absorbed fantasies to see what is best for Munchkinland as a whole?"

The other occupants in the room were still shrouded in silence, the air around them still while the air around her crackled and tingled against her skin – enough so she feared she may have unintentionally used her Sorcery skills on the short fellows. Not that she could, she would feel wholly horrified if she had, it would leave a decidedly awful taste in her mouth, one that would grow as time passed. Not that Sorcery of that sort was easy to do; in fact she was not even sure if it was possible to use it to harm another.

And there she goes, getting of topic in a way she had not done in a long time.

Handkerchief crumpled in his hand, the still red faced Munchkin bowed his head, his fellows following suit.

"Of course, your Eminence."

* * *

How could those fools possibly think the Northern Adept had anything to do with Nessarose's death?

She did not truly know Locasta, but from the little she had experienced first-hand, and heard second-hand, she was a kind and somewhat naïve individual. She even refused to let people refer to her by her title, preferring a more personal connection with everyone she came across. Having experienced many people who acted as though they were kind and caring, Glinda was certain that with Locasta she was genuine in her behaviour. Her brief meeting with The Gillikinese Sorceress had been at a large celebration in Gillikin for the approval of an extension for The Great Gillikinese Railway into Munchkinland. Of course such plans had fallen through at the last moment due to some dispute Glinda would now, with Nessie… deceased, never know the cause of. A great loss for both countries involved in her opinion, though at least she was able to meet such a powerful and apparently influential figure before the plans did fail.

She was aware that Locasta was a popular figure in most areas of Oz, but when the locals noticed her presence there – in Munchkinland so soon after the death of The Eminent – the rumours started and spread like a raging fire.

Locasta was the Adept of the North. Of Gillikin. Besides the inherent dislike of the Gillikinese the Munchkins' held, there was also the fact she was a part of Loyal Oz, the so called 'enemy'. So really it was not much of a surprise when the whispers that she had something to do with Nessarose's death began.

As so did hardened looks directed at Glinda _herself_. Anyone with more than fluff between the ears would realise how ridiculous the rumours were, but Munchkin's were never particularly smart. And The Council proved that. Her being Gillikinese and still residing in the Emerald City was apparently enough evidence to raise suspicions against her. Suspicions that had never knowingly been present until poor Nessa had passed.

For her part, she ignored them.

Ignored rumours would disappear eventually, and so, despite her desire to share some words with the Adept of Gillikin, she kept her distant and did not approach her in order to extinguish the rumours more swiftly.

Wisely, Locasta for her part, left Munchkinland swiftly along with the girl some deemed magical. Of course The Council would claim she was running away, anything to strengthen their own argument, no matter how pathetic it was.

The girl. Strange, perhaps, how she had appeared mere moments after the storm that tore the area apart and ended Nessa's life so suddenly.

But a girl she was, and one so lost and confused there was no doubting her harmlessness. Though the same conclusion had not been drawn by everyone. The girl would be safe, Glinda assumed, with Locasta by her side, together they should be fine until they crossed the borders back into Loyal Oz. Back into supposed 'safety' as others deemed it.

And now they thought she had something to do with it, all because she had 'gained' something. It made her sick.

Weary, Glinda made her way to the room that opened onto the main balcony of the building, preparing to spend the rest of the evening resting with a fairly pleasant view. Something to ease the stress of the day.

She had attempted to find Nanny, having not seen the old woman in an age, but was informed that she was 'gone'. Sensing her initial reaction, or perhaps simply hearing how the sentence had come across, the staff member that she asked quickly corrected themselves. Nanny had left on some journey of her own, searching for something none of them understood. They had added a quick joke about a late midlife crisis, something Glinda saw no humour in. Nanny was indeed very old now; perhaps her journey had to do with wanting to do something before she had no time left to do so.

It left a bittersweet feeling in Glinda's chest.

She had only just lowered herself into a plush armchair when the door reopened. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to greet the intruder with a cordial smile and kind word. When she opened them and turned she was genuinely surprised to see Shell in front of the closed door.

Her tight smile eased as she relaxed in her chair.

"Evening dear," he grinned facetiously, before making his way to the chair at an angle to her own, so they could have a view of the gardens while also keeping one another in their sight, "How was your meeting with those old fools?"

"You know about that?"

"There is very little that escapes my notice."

"As I am aware."

Glinda drew in a breath slowly, her gaze focusing on the sky as it began to turn orange and red, the clouds floating by carelessly. Hard to believe that such a fierce storm has struck nearby only a few days prior.

"We do not have to move here do we?" It would be far easier to keep her distance from the place, from the memories that the walls held. It was part of the reason she chose not to return Gillikin to live, not that Shell was keen on the idea anyway – naturally she let him believe he had won their 'disagreement' of where to reside, though in truth it was a mutual decision to move to the City. Her side of the decision was simply not verbalised to him, "Our home in the City is far more pleasing."

"Oh I don't see that happening anytime soon," Shell responded followed by a chuckle, "The City has much more going on for it. Don't you think? Far more lively than this backwater town." Now while she knew of his dislike for his home, she had never realised just how much distain he had for his home country. His tone was heavy with loathing. She couldn't blame him; if she were from Munchkinland she would be ashamed too. She would do as he did and mention it as rarely as possible – if ever. His brow, which had drawn low with his last sentence, smoothed now as he cocked an eyebrow, "I think we can manage things from our home easily enough."

"'We'…" Glinda raised an eyebrow of her own as she turned to face him fully, filing away information without acknowledging it verbally, a useful and beneficial habit she had developed over the years, "My, how presumptuous."

"I suppose it rather was. Or poorly chosen words." He tapped his chin with a slim forefinger, twisting his face into mock expression of thoughtfulness.

"I rather the latter."

"Of course you do." The expression dropped quickly as he leant a hand on his knee and leant slightly towards her, "And you did not answer my question?"

Like a cat with a mouse it planned to eat, he would tease and play, stray from it, but never let it truly go. He would get what he wanted in the end, no matter how long it took. No matter how long he spent playing.

"It went as you already know it did."

"They tried to oust you then." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Shell nod at the end of his sentence.

"And that was as far as they got." He looked towards her now, and when she met his eyes she saw genuine fascination in their depths, "They will not be trying to dispose of me anytime soon."

He made an impressed sound in the back of his throat, pleased at that turn of events. No doubt he saw some advantage he could gain for himself, not that she could really condemn him for doing so.

"So Eminent," he murmured as he let his head drop to rest against the back of his chair, "what do you plan to do now?"

"Reconnect the lands."

"Reunite with Oz?" His head jerked forward, snapping to face her with a concerned crinkle between his brows, "That will cause many to revolt."

"My," she mused with a smile, "it almost sounds as if you are worried that the 'peasants will rise' and dethrone me."

"You think they won't? Reuniting with Loyal Oz would be the strongest trigger for one to explode into being."

"And they won't simply revolt due to a Gillikinese 'lording' over them?"

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders in resignation, "I guess you have me there."

Glinda weighed her next words, wondering whether to voice them aloud or not. In the end she decided she had already said enough about her intentions, what harm could more possibly do? It would be for the best if he understood that nothing occurring at the present moment could change her opinion on what actions she would need to take.

"It is better to be unified, for everyone I believe. Nothing will change my mind. No arguments you may come up with, nothing."

"But that would go against dear Nessarose's wishes."

Glinda's brow drew in, a niggling feeling tugging in her chest. It would be wrong, in a way, one of Nessie's last actions was to separate from Oz, and she had done so with such determination. Had, in her odd way, thought it would be best for Munchkinland to do so. Though whatever reasons Nessarose had were still lost on Glinda.

Back then, when Nessarose had begun her actions, Glinda had silently disagreed, and had tried to pry from Nessarose just why she believed it to be beneficial for her people. There had been no clear answer forthcoming, and now there would be none at all.

A death so sudden and unexpected, Nessie had yet to even write out a will or verbalise her wishes. Something the Council had latched on to if their words in the meeting were anything to go by. Something they may let slip for now, but which will undoubtedly be brought up again in the future.

Though, would Nessa have even made one even if she had foreseen her rapidly approaching demise? Or would she have trusted things to continue under Glinda's own hands? That she would understand her wishes? Or that others would?

These thoughts continued running around in Glinda's head, she tried to push it back for the moment but failed, and so she responded as she always did when conflicting feelings arose within.

"Do you not have some desperate mourners to offer a shoulder to?" There were few people there, but many more who were not invited to attend the funeral lingered nearby. It would not be hard to find someone.

"Later Dear." Her husband raised his brow, his eyes dancing, then it disappeared as he turned his gaze back to the window.

He stood swiftly, walking towards the glass and looking down to have a better view of whatever had caught his attention.

"Well…" He muttered, and so Glinda moved to stand by his side and followed his gaze, her own eyebrows jumping up.

"Is that…?"

"It seems the prodigal daughter has returned."

She could not reply, not even to point out his incorrect use of that word, her own words had lodged firmly in her throat, and no amount of swallowing would free them to either flow up or down.

There was no doubting the quickly striding figure even in the near shadowy night; not the dark, drab dress and the bright emerald skin.


	2. Chapter 2

With swift steps Glinda made her way through the halls of Colwen Grounds, her eyes sweeping every area she passed through.

She did not stop, even when her feet protested the strain of her heeled shoes, until she caught sight of a familiar shining head.

"Mister Genfee!" She called in a rare show of detectable impatience as she rushed forward towards the Munchkin.

His brows shot up as he registered her presence, he hesitated, tugging at the end of his beard as he visibly mulled over his forthcoming greeting, "Ah, L – Your Eminence."

"I am glad I was finally able to find you," she said, ignoring the greetings she was accustomed to, her breath was still a little short as was her temper, her chest rising and falling faster than normal as she tried to calm herself.

"You were looking for me?" He pulled at the sleeves of his dark suit, his eyes wider than normal, which was saying a lot when it came to Munchkins.

Glinda did not respond, for she knew her answer would be honest and that would cause the Munchkin to deflate from the obvious look of pride now shining in his eyes. Instead she moved the conversation – if it could even be deemed that at its current point – along quickly.

"Have you seen anyone…"

Glinda pondered over her words, debating over whether to bring up that Elphaba was there, and she knew. Did anyone else even know? What would his reaction be? He served the family, for many years if Glinda's memory served her correctly, so would his views be the same as those that he worked for? If only Glinda had paid more attention to the Munchkin's view of Elphaba, but after she had left it had been too much for Glinda to even think of her, let alone mention her.

So instead, she used the vaguest terms she could think of on the spot:

"Anything that would require my attention?"

"Ah!" He clapped his hands together, his forehead furrowed in a clear display of anxiety, "Yes. There is actually, but I'm unsure how you will take it… that is why I did not bring it up immediately."

She chose her next words just as carefully, just enough pressure to coax him into answering without him feeling as if she were demanding an answer, or forcing it from his lips, "I'm sure there is nothing that could… dampen my spirits any more than they have been already."

"Of course…" His brow dropped this time, his own sorrow or perhaps simply his sympathy for her palatable, "The oldest has returned."

Glinda tried to show her surprise at this news, without going overboard with her reaction.

"E – Miss Elphaba has returned?"

He jerked his head in affirmation, the tension in his face eased at her rather level tone. Though she still feared that too much of her excitement at the prospect of seeing Elphaba again, after far too long, had seeped into her voice.

"I took her to speak to her father a short while ago. I doubt it would have lasted for any longer than now."

He wrung his hands and shifted his feet, but Glinda did not pay that much attention, too focused on his words as she was.

"Do you mean you think their meeting is over?"

He nodded quickly, gesturing down the corridor towards the Sunroom.

Glinda bid him her thanks, and continued on her way much as she had before, only this time her destination was fixed in her mind. If Genfee was bewildered by her reaction, or her apparent dismissal of him, he did not show it instead wishing her luck as she hurried away.

She reached the room just in time to see a figure clad in dark colours – not that unusual considering a funeral had just taken place – disappear around the corner before her. With ever hasty steps she strode forward, closing the distance between them until she could seize the figure by their arm with both her hands and drag them into the nearest room.

Heart beating heavily in her chest, Glinda found herself staring at the closed door her hands rested against.

Her goal finally realised, her feelings were free to spring from the faraway place that she had buried them. The swirl of emotions spun out of control beneath her chest, surrounding her heart, seemingly interrupting its constant beat in brief spates.

Acting on impulse was something she should have learnt not to do a long time ago.

Another lesson she had failed.

"Galinda."

Her fingers reflexively twitched against the door as she fought the urge to press her nails into the grain of the wood. Closing her eyes, she took a breath before using her hand's purchase to push herself into motion.

Elphaba, much as Glinda herself, had notably aged. The stern frown lines deeper than they once were, her features somehow more severe. But it was her eyes that struck Glinda most. There was something different about her eyes, something harder in their dark depths.

It was, in a way, frightening.

"It's Glinda now." Her answer was automatic, something she had repeated often but over time the need to do so lessened, and lessened, until the words were no longer needed.

"And why, exactly, is that?"

"I decided it was for the best to change my name to something that would be more respectable, all things considered."

Elphaba did not rise to the bait dangled before her, much to Glinda's surprise. Instead she peered at her with dark eyes, her expression bizarrely neutral and yet callous.

"Why exactly did you accost me and shut me in a room?"

Glinda did not know the answer to that question herself. It had seemed the best cause of action at the time, she could remember clearly how Elphaba would run if cornered. But this was not cornering, this was trapping and as such she could not run.

"You came to Nessarose's funeral?"

"In a way."

"How did you know?"

"I have my ways."

"Are all your answers going to be short and cryptic?"

Elphaba did not dignify her with a reply, instead turning her back to her and striding to the window to gaze out at the just set sun. The sky a mixture of deep purples and blues.

There were many things that they needed to speak of, foremost amongst them the loss of her sister and the rumours that had been building over the years that the other woman had been gone. Glinda's throat felt tight as she stood there, struggling with her whirling thoughts, and the fact that one in particular kept forcing itself to the forefront of her mind. A repetitive pounding against the front of her head, inciting a pain behind her eyes and cutting of her breath for a few long moments at a time.

"Why…" Her voice cracked, perhaps a sign that part of her subconscious recognised that she should really be bringing up some of those far more important matters, not this. Yet, even now she was still so self-absorbed, "Why did you leave?"

There was no reaction on Elphaba's part, not even a minute flicker of guilt or sorrow crossing the face of her reflection. There was nothing.

Nothing.

"You promised me." Glinda's voice had strengthened, had risen in mimic of her temper that sparked like a fuse. The fierce heat of anger building within her chest, stoked in strength by the pounding in her skull, "You promised."

There was no obvious sign that Elphaba had even heard her, not even a slight wavering in her posture.

Glinda clenched her hands tightly at her sides, her nails biting into her skin.

She took a step forward, the soles of her feet protesting any additional movement. It was that sudden movement that finally gained her a reaction.

"No." Elphaba said over her shoulder, before turning to face her, "You promised, you replied to my question in that way. I never said anything in a way of a promise back."

"You implied." Glinda bit of the words, because Elphaba _had_ done that. Hadn't she?

"No I did not, if you thought I did then you are just as thoughtless as I always assumed." There was a slight edge to Elphaba's words, something that would have been unnoticeable in another's speech, but in Elphaba's it was as good as a snarl.

The anger inside Glinda spiked, her eyes stinging as she fought the urge to turn and flee the room. When had she ever ran from a confrontation? That was not like her, not at all.

"So you expect me to promise to 'hold out' for you, which I have! While you can go around doing whatever, or _whoever_," she spat, "you want?"

She approached the taller woman as if to lash out, in action rather than words, ignoring the ache in her feet and head, "And how dare you call me brainless, I've always had a brain in my head. _You_ showed me not to hide it."

There had been a rumour of some prince from the Vinkus being involved with the terrorists that now plagued the City – though Glinda had seen nothing to suggest that such a group even existed – that he had an… intimate relationship with the worst of them. The most well-known. His death had followed swiftly.

Her bitterness forced the words out before her brain could stop her, "I knew you would prefer to be with…with someone like that. Doing things like this."

"What _are_ you rabbling on about?" Elphaba all but growled out, her irritation apparent this time. If Glinda had been in a calmer state of mind she would have been struck by the rarity of such a reaction, for Elphaba always seemed to remain passive even when her emotions where spinning inside. It was her eyes that gave her away, not her actions.

Before Glinda could answer, Elphaba continued, her face twisting in her anger.

"And where exactly is your _rabble_ of children?"

Glinda choked on her breath, causing it to hitch painfully, as the pain in her head reached a peak, she could not stop her words if she was even able to try, "I can't have any!"

The words hurt, bringing with them painful memories of appointments and doctors. How she had mourned her 'loss'. For she had been raised all her life to believe her most important roles in life were to marry well and produce heirs to carry on her name and legacy, to continue to improve their family's standing.

She couldn't even do that right.

Elphaba's expression fell, looking as stunned as she was capable of.

Glinda's chest heaved as she tried to calm her breathing and rid her vision of the red that had consumed it a mere moment ago. The smart thing to do would be to turn her back on Elphaba, finally put to rest her feelings and move on with her life.

But she couldn't.

She had _never_ been able to.

She opened her mouth, but closed it just as quickly. Why should _she_ be the one to apologise? Elphaba was the one being as difficult as always, or perhaps her experiences while she was gone had changed her.

Glinda knew of the rumours, of course she did. But to acknowledge the woman she knew was partaking in the actions attributed to her was something she had not been able to comprehend, nor come to terms with. She had seen none of these actions, but rumours had deep roots.

Elphaba growled in the back of her throat, her features growing stern once again.

"I don't know why I bothered coming back."

Glinda held her tongue, stopping herself from adding that she did not see why Elphaba had bothered either.

"I should have known you would confront me with your stupidity once more."

Glinda took a deep breath, motioning with one hand that she was calming herself, and that Elphaba should be too.

"You're angry, and sad, I understand that Elphie for I am feeling much the same right now. But that does not give you the right to behave in such a way." Glinda sighed, her eyes fluttering shut for a split second, "And neither should I."

"I can behave in whatever way I wish," the taller woman snapped, her shoulder's trembling in such an unusual display of rage that Glinda stepped back with a barely contained gasp. Now she was more placid she could see the changes in Elphaba, the most noticeable her apparent inability to control her emotions as she once had.

Well then, Glinda would have to be composed for the both of them.

"Using anger to cope with sorrow is –

"Sorrow? You think I am mourning?" The following laugh was short and bitter, nothing like the one that once graced the woman's lips, "Why should I mourn her or any of you? The same would not be the case if our places were switched."

"You do not mean that Elphie," Glinda's words were soft, placating, "She did care for you, as do we. The worry we experienced when you left has not lessened over time. What I feel hasn't –

"You expect me to believe that?" Elphaba's eyes narrowed as she spoke, "I left once and was found, but this time…"

Had Elphaba expected to be found? But that did not make any sense. Surely. Glinda was starting to get the feeling she was simply saying these things to be intentionally confusing and difficult. The Elphaba she had known a long time ago had been like that on occasion.

"We looked. How could we not?" Considering whether to tell her the truth or lie, Glinda instead settled on a half-truth, "We found no hint of you."

There was no response from the taller woman, instead she moved back, increasing the distance between them – an action that felt like a twisted dagger in Glinda's chest.

Glinda swallowed thickly, which brought to her attention the tension in her muscles. While she had tried to stop her mind from responding to it, though she still allowed herself to notice it, her body was all too aware that there was something terribly wrong with Elphaba.

Mere moments ago she had put it down to sorrow and anger, the processes of mourning. But her eyes… Elphaba's eyes told so much more than her words or actions ever could.

"What else happened?"

Glinda blinked, snapping from her thoughts into a bout of confusion before it occurred to her what Elphaba was referring to.

"After you left?"

"Of course." Elphaba's words were hard, as if she were biting back from some retort about Glinda's intelligence.

"The title was forfeited to Nessie when you left."

Elphaba turned her back to her once more, approaching the window to lay her hands against the windowsill, "You think I'm clueless to that?"

"You asked!" Glinda snapped back, her irritation returning.

Closing her eyes, she released a drawn out breath in an effort to calm herself once more. This was getting ridiculous. When Elphaba remained silent, Glinda continued.

"It has passed to me now –

Elphaba whirled, her dark eyes blazing with an anger so sudden, so unexpected, that Glinda felt herself propelled backwards. Her own barely suppressed feelings of indignation vanishing in her shock.

"The title is passed on my say. I am here now and so I claim it back."

Glinda frowned, her bafflement would have been clear to Elphaba if she had been paying any attention to anything beyond her words.

"It doesn't work like that –

"And I am supposed to care about how things are 'supposed to work'?" Elphaba punctuated the end of her sentence with a sharp cackle. One that sent a chill down Glinda's spine.

"No one would pay your claim any attention." Glinda lifted her hand in a peaceful gesture, at Elphaba's dark gaze, Glinda's hand dropped back to her side, "I struggled to retain the title. They would rather the position be abolished than passed to a Gillikinese. At least that is the impression I came away from our meeting with." Glinda paused to take another deep breath, her difficulty taking in air a common trouble throughout this confrontation, "Though they tried to get rid of it even when Nessarose was alive."

Elphaba's lips pulled down and back sharply, baring her teeth, "It will be abolished only when _I_ say so."

"It won't be. I stopped it."

"And now it is _yours_." The brunette jabbed a thin finger in her direction, "All you have ever been interested in is that title. Excuse me if I am wrong, but that is the very reason you were sent here, was it not?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Okay, perhaps there was some truth to Elphaba's words, but things had changed. _She_ had changed.

"Well remind me dear Glinda, what were your first words after my grandfather died?"

What kind of question was that? Glinda's face scrunched up at the puzzling question, where had it even come from?

"How am I supposed to remember that? Many years have passed Elphaba."

"Well, I remember. Clear as day." Elphaba sneered, "The very first words to spill from your lips were to state that the title of Eminent was mine."

Glinda's jaw tightened, her back teeth pressing together painfully, "I… I did not know what else to say. You must see, Elphaba, that I have never been in such a situation before. I had neither met nor laid eyes on your grandfather, how was I supposed to know how to comfort you. If you would have even wanted that."

Elphaba lurched forward, pushing past Glinda.

"E-Elphie, what are you doing?"

The impact, or perhaps simply the action, caused an 'oomph' to expel from Glinda's lips as she stumbled.

"I have grown weary of you, and all these pointless words."

Glinda spun around just in time to see Elphaba yank the door open.

Her parting words echoed in the room were Glinda found herself frozen to the spot.

"What I said will remain true. The title is mine."

The door slammed.

* * *

Some things never changed, Glinda concluded once she had settled down, Elphaba still 'ran' when she felt she was losing an argument.

Glinda sighed, pressing her thumb into the furrow between her eyebrows. Her form had remained hunched over the dresser in her old room for a long stretch of time, she much so she had lost track of it.

It was less the words exchanged than the changes in Elphaba herself. The general air of animosity surrounding the woman.

And it was selfish. Completely self-absorbed, that Glinda was far more wounded by _that_ than anything else. She felt far more pain over Elphaba's response to _her_, was far more distressed over that than the loss of Nessarose. She had grown closer to the middle sibling over the years, had spent far more time with her than she ever had with her sister. Yes they had drifted apart, but they still cared for one another.

And yet she felt more loss over Elphaba. Even as she still walked Oz, unlike her sister who would never return.

It was ridiculous. Frightening even.

Glinda closed her eyes, pressed her thumb harder against her skin, surely with enough force to leave an unsightly mark.

Was she really that terrible a person?

That was the only answer, wasn't it?

She was fully aware of just how brief their time together had been. How in the grand scheme of things it was all but a grain of sand in the hourglass of life, and yet she was still drawn. Completely and inarguably.

It was ridiculous, childish, and completely immature. But there was no fighting it. It was something she would never be able to combat or ignore. She would be drawn to her, no matter what she did, no matter where she was, or what she told herself.

She did not know how to feel about it.

Lost perhaps?

Powerless?

There was no describing it, and perhaps that was what scared her the most.


	3. Chapter 3

After their marriage they had, thankfully, relocated to a more pleasing to the eye house in the heart of the City. It rested on the bank of one of the many manmade canals the threaded through the City; she often enjoyed watching the waterway and the people who travelled along it on her lazier days.

Back then it had been a relief in a way to be away from Colwen Grounds. While she had missed Nessarose, the freedom from the physical reminders of what had occurred in that place lifted a weight from her shoulders. Besides, she had reasoned, they could always visit or, as she found herself doing far more often, write letters. It was far simpler to communicate that way, for it came with distance and she could easily separate herself from any reminders.

Those first few months had been good, or as good as they could be all things considered.

When Nessie first mentioned her plans to separate Munchkinland from Oz, Glinda returned to Colwen Grounds immediately, determined to help talk sense into her sister-in-law. Obviously she had failed. It took time, but finally she realised she was unlikely to be able to talk sense into Nessarose, and so she returned to the City after many weeks of trying to help.

Things returned much to the way they had been prior to her leaving, even after Munchkinland separated from Oz. That was until her expended social circle – filled with people she did not particularly care for, but she had an image to maintain – began entertaining more gossip and rumours, a large number concerning events outside their social class. Something unexpected and very new.

It began with whispers. Whispers concerning a terrorist group sabotaging water and food supplies destined for the City, or rather for the heart of it. The upper classes believed themselves safe from the effect of such actions. For what did they have to fear from a group believed to be comprised of rogue Munchkins? A small, incapable group apparently attempting to incite a war, or perhaps they were after some sort of gain, now their country was separate from the rest of Oz. Or perhaps their actions were simple due to a general dislike of those they saw as above them, and considering what Glinda knew about the condition in Munchkinland, that was not an unlikely reason.

She paid it all little attention. She had not been affected by the events, nor had she even seen any evidence that the hearsay was true. She was well aware that many rumours held at least a small kernel of truth within, but none that she heard caught her attention.

That was until she caught wind of some other suspects believed to be responsible for the supposed attacks.

A green skinned terrorist.

After that, every little titbit that flew by her supposedly unknowing ears was clung to. She was fully aware of the falseness, the exaggeration that must have been present in the majority of the words, but she still took them. Studied them like some obsessed monstrosity. Searched the words for that small nugget of truth that they must hold within.

The things she heard…

The things she tried to ignore.

The Elphaba she knew would never take such actions. Even if she had changed over the months, even if she had a negative view of their leader.

But the woman she had spoken to that day… she seemed nothing like that woman she had once known.

She seemed just like 'The Witch' that she had been deemed by others.

* * *

The first thing she became aware of was the throbbing in her head, a constant pounding not too different to the beating of her heart. Then the rest fell in line. Her back ached and goose bumps covered her skin as the chill night air seeped throughout the room.

She had fallen asleep at the dresser.

She slid to her feet, her legs wobbling as she stumbled towards the fireplace, only the weak moonlight filtering in through the uncovered window acting as her guide.

She stopped before it, becoming fully aware that she was far too tired to try lighting it; she instead turned to undress and put on her nightclothes. Far more difficult to do in near darkness than she thought, but she managed it in the end.

Even if she was tired, there was time for her mind to drift to other matters. In her exhausted state the barriers that normally existed in her mind weakened, allowing thoughts that would not normally occur to her to make an appearance.

Foremost amongst them the conversation she had with Elphaba earlier that day. The other woman's anger at her for so many things that Glinda was, in truth unaware of. Grief, Glinda thought, she had seen the emotional whirlwind it conjured in individuals, and that was what she saw in Elphaba. Though with the other woman, it was the acknowledgement that Glinda had inherited the title that seemed to be the final straw.

Of course, even if Elphaba had claimed the title back nothing would come of it. Even so, perhaps it would be best to make her appearance as the leader, as Eminent, as minimal as possible. Not just to pacify Elphaba, of course not, but minimising her presence for a short while might help the Munchkins and Munchkinlanders come to terms with her as their new leader. If she were too forceful from the beginning, made her changes and enforced her ideals straight away, the possible backlash may be far more aggressive. If she waited, made her changes subtly, which admittedly was far more underhanded and quite possibly manipulative, than they may be more willing to listen to her. Far more accepting of her decisions.

Possibly placating Elphaba was simply a beneficially side-effect. That was all. To mollify the oldest Thropp sibling would bring her back to her senses, Glinda hoped, and they could have a pleasant conversation. If Glinda could find were she had disappeared to, that is.

Her plan almost fully formed in her head, Glinda nodded to herself. Now she just needed someone she could trust to assist her.

Hopefully her sleepy decisions would not turn out to be muddled foolishness when she awoke in the morning, as was so often the case with late night ideas and choices.

* * *

The morning after the funeral, Glinda went about the usual morning rituals ruminating on her decisions of the night before.

Glinda tugged on the ties of her dress a tad too hard – she had decided to leave her maid at home, preferring to do more of her daily tasks independently now.

She bit at her bottom lip, in the light of day her late night thoughts did seem sensible. Surprisingly so. She would act on them; she _needed_ to act on them. The sooner the better.

She readied herself, before heading to the morning meal where she waited until she could slip away unnoticed. Once she had she immediately tried to find Elphaba once again, she had not found her the day prior nor was she present at the morning meal.

None of the staff had seen her. It was as if she had all but vanished.

Glinda exhaled loudly, letting her head drop as she stood in some secluded corridor. Elphaba had gone, there was no doubting that. She could only assume that she had once again fled to wherever it was she was residing.

It was the obvious conclusion she had come to the day before, but she had not wanted to accept it then as she searched with fruitless fervour. Truly, she did not want to accept it that day either.

She bit her knuckle, quickly realising the idiocy in her actions.

She needed to focus on what was important, and that… that wasn't Elphaba.

Glinda lifted her head and fixed her appearance as she gazed at her reflection in the nearby window.

And what was important was finding an ally, and as such she set about finding the person she should have gone to straight away, rather than chasing her flight of fancy like she promised herself she would not do.

It took some time, but she eventually found him fussing about in a small room of to the side of the main entranceway. He jumped remarkably high when she made him aware of her presence with a gentle clearing of her throat.

He whipped around, eyes as wide as saucers. Something she could not help but smile at.

"Mister Genfee, good morning."

"Ah." He paused to chuckle at himself, no doubt for his foolish actions, "Good morning, Lady… err, your Eminence. I mean."

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his flushed face in an effort to cool his heated skin.

She ignored his fumbling, not at all surprised by it. Munchkins had a habit of stumbling over their words, just as the Gillikinese had a habit of being formal no matter the circumstances at hand.

"I wished to speak with you before I left."

"You are leaving?" He asked, his brows rising in surprise, "So soon?"

"I will be returning to the City to begin talks to lessen the tension and problems between our countries."

He pressed his hands together, nodding his head at her words.

"I heard, if you do not mind me saying, that you plan to reunify with Loyal Oz."

"That is correct," Glinda replied calmly, doing well to avoid any annoyance at the gossip that was already spreading – even if she did expect it.

The people there were worse than the girls at University.

"And if you do not mind me saying…"

She gave a short nod of permission, an action that caused the Munchkin to beam brightly.

"… I have to agree with your decision, in my opinion the situation may have improved in the short-term, but in the long-term things will grow much worse. Our goods are selling for more, but overall less is being sold. Add in that the tax on importing goods will no doubt be raised, we are looking at quite the economic loss. While the City may only provide luxury goods which we do not need, we will still be suffering in the long-term." He trailed off, freezing mid gesture. Glinda had remained silent, half-expecting Genfee to fall into one of his rambling speeches concerning his theories and beliefs.

The Munchkin twilled the end of his beard around a single finger, his cheeks growing red beneath his whiskers again, "Err… My apologies…" He murmured before continuing, "I did not mean to get carried away."

"That is quite alright, I was hoping to hear as much."

He opened his mouth the question her words, but seemed to think better of it. She allowed him the time he needed to mull over whether to reconsider his decision on not asking her what he wanted, which partially paid off. She could tell the query was not the one he wished to ask, not that she minded all that much.

"How long will you be gone for? When will you return to run things here?"

"I imagine…" She paused to mull over her words and select which of her prepared statements would be the best with the way the situation had turned out, "That I will be gone for quite a while. That is why I have come to you."

Now was the best time to get to the 'meat of the matter'. Or so she hoped.

He blinked rapidly, turning slightly to rearrange parcels she had not noticed, on the table behind him – no doubt tokens from mourners. Giving gifts seemed odd to Glinda, but she had swiftly learnt that it was a common practice in Munchkinland. One she doubted she would ever understand.

"I'm afraid I do not understand." And it seemed she was not the only one who had trouble understanding things.

"Well," she began softly, "I do not trust the Council, but I have grown to respect you." She waited until his eyes met hers, which they did nervously, "I would like you to be, how do you put it here? Ah, yes, my 'eyes and ears'. I would like you to be in charge in my stead."

"Oh!" He squeaked, his ears turning pink with the force of his new flush, "That would be – that is unexpected, but it would be such an honour, to know you trust me. I have never been given such a task. Never. And one of such importance!"

Glinda could not prevent the genuine smile that crossed her face at his reaction. Sure his ramblings could be annoying, as could his fondness for idle gossip and theories, but even so, she had grown somewhat attached to the bald Munchkin.

"I would like you to ensure that my orders and wishes are being adhered to."

"Of course, Lady Glinda – Your Eminence." His face creased as he tried to wipe away his enthusiastic expression, to morph it into the stern, seriousness that was required of a man in his newly acquired position, "And I assume that you would like me to put right anything that goes against your plans."

Glinda gave a small nod, her smile still firmly in place, "Our plans. And, I think, due to our new relationship you need not call me Lady or Eminence. Simply Glinda will do."

His eyes grew even larger than they already were, as his barely cooled face heated up even more, "If that is what you wish, La – Glinda."

He said the word slowly, as if testing for any differences now it was on its own. He looked thoughtful for a few short moments before his face brightened. Perhaps Locasta's oddity in her informal interactions with people was not such a mistake after all. That being a common belief amongst some of the higher social class of people. Glinda would have to make a note to acknowledge her approach if they ever met again.

"Is there anything in particular that you wish me to do immediately?" He seemed to bounce on his heels, his excitement reminiscent of the few young children she was privileged to have met.

"For the moment keep everything to yourself, and an overall eye on things. I will formulate the order which I want things to transpire and forward it to you as soon as possible." She paused as he nodded rapidly, his small chest puffed out proudly, "If you have any suggestions do not hesitate to contact me with them – or act on them if it furthers our goals to benefit Munchkinland." She added quickly, realising that the Munchkin's age and knowledge in such matters were far greater than hers would ever be, as evidenced by his previous rambling on reunification and the future of Munchkinland.

"Of course. I will get to work straight away." His serious expression wavered, his grin breaking through with force, "I will not disappoint you or Munchkinland."

"I am sure you will not."

If possible he managed to look even more honoured.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to those who have left reviews, and of course to those who are simply just reading.**

**I tried to make it obvious in the narrative of this chapter, but in case it is not, this chapter is a flashback one.**

* * *

Highmuster Arduenna was a large man, not in appearance or height, but in the force of something else – something unnameable. His presence easily garnered the attention of others in his nearby proximity. It was not an effect he was ever truly all that aware of.

As they watched a carriage drawing its slow way up the road to their home, he circled an arm around his wife, something she tutted at, but indulged him in for a moment, before carefully removing the offending limb. He chuckled to himself, causing Larena to shoot him a feigned look of impatient annoyance.

His friends had mocked him at first, for taking his wife's name rather than force her to take his own. As was the norm. They had acted as if it somehow made him something lesser, weaker. Even the weight of what the name stood for did not sway them, but he had eventually. He made sure they would never insult his family again; he would never stand for it.

His family was his everything.

The carriage finally came to a stop before them, his grin broadening to the point of making his cheeks hurt. It had been a long time, far too long.

The door of the carriage opened, the figure inside bounding out with quick steps, baffling the driver who was just climbing down to open the door himself.

A handheld bag dropped to the floor as the figure rushed forward.

"Papa!"

He gathered his daughter into his arms, noticing a tenseness that shouldn't be, and barely stopped himself from spinning her as he had once done so frequently.

"Highmuster…" Larena moved her head in a subtle motion, "Not in public."

"Right," he chuckled, though there was no one else around.

Galinda turned, retrieving her bag and bid farewell to the carriage driver.

"Is that all you brought?" Larena asked, her head tilting subtly.

"Most of my old belongings are still here, it made more sense not to bring a lot," Galinda explained. Highmuster nodded his head in agreement with her decision, but neither he nor his wife were quite able to cover their surprise at an action they had never expected their daughter to take.

"No maid?" Larena asked as she spotted the carriage begin to roll away, the driver making his journey back to the train station.

"Coming home is important." That it was, "And I am trying to increase my independence. You never know when something may befall those you rely on."

There was no doubting just what their daughter was referring to, even if there was something to doubt, the quietness of her last sentence would have confirmed the truthfulness of her words.

"Let's get you inside," Highmuster said gently, placing his hand on the top of his daughter's back and taking her bag from her hand.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, the door closing with a quiet click, Larena wrapped her arms around their daughter. Highmuster's bright eyes picking up on a slight hesitation before Galinda returned the action.

He set her bag on top of an end table besides the stairs, choosing not to bring Galinda's reaction to attention.

Larena pulled back, both hands resting on Galinda's upper arms, studying their daughter's features, before hugging her once more.

Perhaps it was selfish of them to have distanced themselves from their daughter in the way that they had. After all, they had done it in order to lessen the inevitable upset that would come when she left them for a place they could not reach easily, not yet at least.

As Highmuster made his way to his wife's side he saw Galinda glancing around the room, as if she was taking it all in for the first time – which, in a way, she was. How long had it been now since she last stepped foot into her childhood home?

"How are things now, with your marriage?" His wife cupped Galinda's cheek in one hand as the other fussed with her curls, "I understand from your last letter you were still suffering from nerves?"

Galinda's gaze wavered, but remained in place, "Yes. Things have settled now."

Something about her reaction, coupled with what else he had seen, set Highmuster's nerves on edge, "If he does anything, I will have words with him." Galinda shook her head at his reaction, her lips quirked into a small smile.

Larena slid one hand down to hold her daughter's arm, "And still no children."

Highmuster fidgeted, his brow furrowing. His daughter's gaze had slipped, her lips parted as if she was going to say something immediately, which she did not. When she did speak there was a slight crack to her voice that made his hands tremble, "No. Not yet. But we shall continue to try."

The older Arduenna woman smiled, oblivious to what her husband had noticed. Or perhaps he was reading things that would not real, seeing things that were not actually there. It was possible Galinda's hesitance, the slight air of an inner struggle within her were all due to the reason she was there in the first place.

It was only natural, of course, that she would be so very concerned over her Ama's condition. It was a sorrowful thing that she would return only due to such an occurrence, rather than a happy event. Yes, he would rather that be the case than anything else.

"I understand…" Larena began, rubbing at her daughter's arms with both hands, "… these things take time, but you will get there. Marriages between unknown parties often end up pleasant, if not completely joyous. You learn to love them; it simply takes more time for some. Don't you agree, dear?"

Highmuster scratched at the hair along the top of his jaw, his eyes crinkling with his smile, "Not for me. It was love at first sight."

Larena's eyes dropped low, an uncharacteristic smirk spreading across her face, "Of course it was."

He scoffed playfully at her false ego.

Both mother and daughter fell into the same bright and bubbly laughter. The sound made his heart swell with joy, made him almost forget that this was not a happy occasion.

* * *

Her stomach churned painfully, the fluttering in her chest changing into something more painful and aching.

Glinda turned to her parents at the base of the stairs. Her father's brow crinkled in concern, her mother holding her hands before her, fidgeting with her fingers. They had already offered to come with her, but she had gently declined. She needed to do this, on her own preferably.

She gave them a frail smile, hoping the distance between them would make it appear stronger than it was.

The short distance to her Ama's room, directly beside her old room, felt as if it took an age. The familiar corridor and decorations made her feel small and uncomfortable. The anxiety constantly eating away in her chest.

She paused in front of the closed door, steeling herself before raising her hand to knock softly on the wood before entering the room.

"Ama?"

The woman lowered the book she held in her hands, a smile crossing her face as she realised who had entered her room.

She looked dwarfed in the plush sheets wrapped around her and the pillows propping her up, "Duckie."

She had lost weight, a significant amount by all appearances.

Her voice was low, crackly in quality, but still so cheerful. She placed the book on the bedside table, not carrying to take note of the page she was currently on.

"I've missed you," Glinda said as she made her way to her Ama's bedside, wavering for a moment in her worry before circling her arms around Ama Clutch and hugging her softly. The familiar comforting scent helped calm Glinda's heart, her smile matching her Ama's.

There was already a chair at the bedside which Glinda promptly rearranged closer to the bed, before sitting on it. She reached across the sheets to grasp her Ama's left hand, further pacified by the warmth and strength in the grip.

"You look well," Ama Clutch said gently, her eyes dancing with warmth, "Are you really well?"

"Yes Ama, I feel much better now than I once was." Glinda wanted to return the compliment, but had a feeling it would not sit well, all things considered.

"And the girls? How are they?"

Now that was a difficult question, one that had Glinda fumbling for an appropriate answer, "They are well, I believe. We have grown closer; I think you could say we are friends now. Nessarose is quite kind once you get to know her, and ignore her tendency to fall back on religious discussions or scoldings for 'sinful' behaviour and comments."

Ama Clutch's chuckle was cut off by a harsh cough.

A glass and pitcher of water sat on the bedside table; Glinda quickly filled the glass halfway and pressed it into her Ama's free hand. The water sloshed in the glass as Ama Clutch shook; Glinda released her hold on her Ama's hand and helped her take a sip to sooth her throat.

Once Ama Clutch signalled she had drunk enough, Glinda returned the glass to the bedside table.

"You seem more capable than before."

"I feel more capable now." Glinda affirmed, "I am married now, did you know?"

"I told you that those girls would be good for you." Ama Clutch continued, ignoring or not hearing her quietly spoken words, "The more experiences a person has, the more they grow. I wish I had done more with my time."

Glinda shook her head, her lip wobbling, "Don't speak like that Ama."

"No point ignorin' the obvious, Duckie."

"Ama…"

"You're not that little girl running scared from ducks no more."

Glinda allowed a small laugh to escape her, remembering her childish fear of those feathered beasts and their piecing cries.

"The way they waddled, right Duckie?"

"Urgh." Glinda shivered, "Blasted things. Then you spent the rest of my childhood taunting me about it."

"You overcame that fear, and so many others." Ama Clutch paused to yawn, her eyes half open now, "I am proud of you."

"You're tired." Her Ama nodded and hummed her agreement with Glinda's words.

"You were always far more capable than you gave yourself credit for." Ama Clutch grabbed her hand, squeezing it with surprising strength, "You can still do so much."

And with that, the woman drifted off to sleep.

Glinda stayed for a while, mulling over the words exchanged in the far too short conversation.

Her Ama was right. There _was _still so much she could do, so much she had never experienced, nor truly thought she would ever experience.

When was the last time she had so much as thought of Sorcery? Let alone cast a simple spell or two?

The few challenges to herself that she had ever faced, she had managed to overcome in the end. Much as she had Elphaba's abandonment, though her distance from the memories helped with that particular fight. She was capable. More than she had ever thought. She _could_ be more; she could prove to so many people that a person could be greater than what was thought of them, or what was expected of them.

She could do that for her Ama, even if she was not around to see it come to its full fruition.

She slid her hand from beneath the weight of her Ama's, and left the woman to her rest.

* * *

She jerked awake, a cold sweat sweeping across her brow.

Glinda's body trembled as she pushed herself up, her arms barely able to manage that simple action. She gasped for breath, her hearth hammering.

Her dream. Terrible. Painful. She could not remember the details, as always with her nightmares, only the horrifying and all-consuming emotions that were brought about by them.

She calmed herself after a few long moments, and was debating whether to have a bath or just wash herself with a cloth until morning when she could have a long soak, when there was a soft knocking on her door.

She slipped from her bed to answer it, her brow creased in confusion and the beginnings of panic, when she the handle turn in the moonlight. The person on the other side too impatient to wait.

"Galinda, dear?" Her mother called as she opened the door, letting the soft light from the hall flood into the room as she looked around before her gaze landed on her.

Her mother's eyes were watering.

"Mama?"

Her mother let her old childhood term slip, not so much as frowning in disapproval. Before she knew it, Glinda found herself wrapped in her mother's arms.

"Come. Quickly, there isn't much time."

Glinda's stomach plummeted, her breath catching as her heart froze for a long moment. Her vision blurred but she pushed herself to remain dignified, for the moment.

This was too soon. Too quick.

Her mind raced.

* * *

She had never known her grandmother, but she had never felt the loss of not knowing her. Not when she had her Ama, always bright and cheerful, reading her stories, indulging her and being ever so blunt when needed.

The doctor had left them, waiting outside the room so they could say their goodbyes.

_Goodbyes._

There had been a turn for the worse in the middle of the night. Apparently her parents took turns checking on the woman throughout the night, Glinda wondered what happened to their old housekeep and cook, an odd thing to be concerned about with everything else that was occurring. The mind was a curious thing.

Her father had noted the change and had fetched the doctor, in his nightclothes of all things.

They let Glinda occupy the chair. Her father; his hair and sideburns mussed by sleep, stood on the other side of the bed, his arm wrapped around her mother; who looked as prefect as always. Both wore equally pained expressions. Of course. She had almost forgotten that Ama Clutch had cared for her mother in her later years also, and for her from childhood.

Her mother may have known Ama Clutch for longer, but they both agreed Glinda was closer to the woman, and she to her.

She said nothing, for there was nothing she could say, if Ama Clutch could even hear her anymore. She just held onto her Ama's hand and comforted her with her presence.

She had seemed fine that day when they had spoken. Smaller, weaker perhaps, but her mind was still strong. How could such a thing happen so soon? It was expected, yet so _un_expected at the same time. Was life truly so confusing? So out of their control?

Her mother whispered an old prayer to Lurline.

It was almost as if she had held on purely so Glinda would have the chance to say goodbye. As if she had only wanted to say those words to Glinda and then she was happy to just let go. To find her peace.

With one last rattling sigh she was gone.

Then, and only then, did Glinda let the tears fall, her head hanging low and shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

She would justify her Ama's pride in her. However misplaced it may have once been.

* * *

The funeral was a quiet, reserved affair. A few of her Ama's family members, of which Glinda knew nothing, were present. They, however, kept their distance for the majority of the ceremony, only approaching Glinda at the end to thank her for her kindness – for she had paid for everything, despite her parents' insistence that it was their responsibility. Shell would likely be annoyed if he were to find out, but he would soon forget his feelings on the matter in a day or two. Not that it bothered her all that much how he felt.

They invited her Ama's family back to her parents' house, her mother opening their home for the Wacian. A meeting of mourners in a home connected to the deceased, where food and beverages would be provided. It was short notice, but her mother insisted that they could manage a decent offering. The family, though politely, declined, stating they wished to spend the time privately and together to celebrate Ama Clutch's life. Her mother insisted, and they continued to gently decline.

In the end, her mother dropped the offer, respecting their wishes while still wanting to do what she could for them. Wanting to give them something more. The family thanked the three of them to an almost obscene degree while fighting against the tears in their eyes, as Glinda and her parents struggled with their own emotions.

When they returned home they had a small celebration of their own, trying to remain upbeat as Ama Clutch would have wanted them to be. They drunk and ate little, but remained up until late into the night sharing stories and memories.

Glinda could not return to her room that night, and so stayed in a guestroom until it was time for her to bid her parents goodbye and return to The City. To her new home.

Just before she left she travelled to her Ama's grave and left more flowers, of which there was already a large amount, and a small stone figure of a duck. She placed it prominently, and whispered her goodbyes and reaffirmation of her promise. That she would do something, that she could be more. Perhaps she could even make a difference and a mark on the world. A positive mark, one that could benefit so many people.

Every three months, at the very least, she would make the journey home to visit her parents and pay her respects to her Ama. She would kneel before the stone which was all that was left of the woman who had always been by her side, sharing stories of joy and sadness, of her continued life. All the while Glinda's fingers ran softly over the writing and poems on the headstone, her voice low and wistful as she let the tears roll down her cheeks silently.


	5. Chapter 5

Glinda rubbed her hands together, her brow furrowed. Slowly taking in a breath, she stretched one hand before her to hover over a half full cup. She took another small intake of breath, flexed her fingers and watched a spark jump from her hand to the cup, steam curling up from within in only seconds.

"Ha!" Glinda exclaimed, smiling widely at her success.

It had only been a few days since her return from Munchkinland, and as such she had been rushed off her feet since then trying to sort out her ideas and her other concerns. All of which seemed muddled together, and proving quite tricky to untangle and separate. Her own mind a complete mess.

For now, her focus _had _to be on Munchkinland. She had no time to be distracted by any other invasive thoughts, unwanted and as unnecessary as they were.

She took a sip of her reheated tea – she could have asked the maid to deal with it, but she had long ago decided against such actions. It was, after all, another opportunity for her to practice her Sorcery, and she would do just that.

No one knew she was practicing her skills, in fact she was unsure if anyone was even aware of what she had studied at University, or that she was one of a select few who had the innate ability. In fact, the only other she knew whose abilities were publicly known was Locasta. Either she was more of a rarity than she was ever led to believe, or there was something else occurring of which she knew nothing. The former seemed unlikely, though maybe not considering how she had once boasted about her talent to any who would spare her the time to listen. Which was most, if she was being honest. Whether they wanted to listen or not was not her worry.

"Enough of that distraction," she muttered lowly to herself as she lifted her pen from the inkwell, carefully tapping the nib against the side to remove any excess ink. She had already had one incident were ink had fallen and stained a letter she had almost completed. A letter that had been absolutely perfect, unsurprisingly considering how long she had spent writing it.

Naturally, she had no choice but to take a break to calm herself before she broke something. After a number of drafts and letters where she deemed the writing too chaotic upon the page, she was wound up rather tight.

Still, she was thankfully calmer now, and certain she would finally get it finished to her exacting standards this time. She used her free hand to rearrange one of the aforementioned 'chaotic' letters as she flexed her grip on the pen, before she began to copy the writing. Neatly, this time, perfect like she had been taught as a child.

* * *

She signed the letter with a flourish, paused, then cast an appraising eye upon her finished worked.

Perfect.

She released a long, drawn-out breath, her shoulders feeling freed from the tension that had settled on them. She rolled her head back to fix a crick that had formed there, her eyes closed as she felt a small weight lifted from her.

Her head dropped forward into a normal position just as a knock sounded against the door.

Glinda passed her pen from one hand to the other before she answered the person on the other side.

"Yes?" She called as she returned the pen to the inkwell.

Ella opened the door cautiously, peering around the side of it as if it were a shield, "I was wondering if you needed a drink, or something to eat, Lady Glinda?"

Glinda shook her head at the maid, "No thank you."

The young woman nodded her head, looking somewhat put out. It tugged at something in Glinda so, just as the woman was moving to leave; Glinda called out, "What a fool I am. I appear to have run out of envelopes."

To prove a point to herself, she slid open the top drawer of the desk, pulling out the single envelope she had seen that morning. She had made a note to find some more, but like most things at that moment in time, the thought had slipped her mind in favour of other undesirable things.

"I have one for my main letter, but I require more for the others."

"May…" Ella asked slowly, "I ask who you are writing to?"

"No," Glinda responded simply, closing the drawer far more aggressively than was necessary.

The girl flushed, her ears burning bright, "I – I'll go fetch some now, my Lady."

Glinda nodded her thanks as she moved the letter to her side, replacing it with a fresh sheet of paper as she made another mental note to increase the girl's wages. It had been a long while since her last pay rise, and Glinda did feel rather cruel in her often dismissive attitude towards the maid. She had tried to be kinder, but the girl reminded her of someone she could not name, and it set her on edge.

When Glinda looked back at the door it was closed.

Stretching her fingers and rolling her wrist – the crack it made caused her nose to scrunch up in distaste – she set about composing a far easier letter, and hopefully free herself from another weight on her form.

Her reply to Genfee and his unsurprisingly good ideas (which either coincided with her own or improved upon them) could wait for the moment; this particular one was for her parents. Writing to them had not always been an easy task for her, especially during her younger years, but after spending the majority of the day and afternoon attempting to complete just one letter to The Wizard, anything would seem a doddle.

* * *

There had been no reply.

Her parents replied promptly – yet another benefit of living in the City, or in any place that was connected to the The Great Gillikin Railway.

Genfee, if the date of his letter was to be trusted, which she was sure it was, had replied as soon as her letter had reached him. He detailed how the Council had immediately returned to their old behaviour as soon as she had left, but he had rallied his own friends and stood against them in her, or rather, his name. It had taken very little time for the Council to once again give up their protests, instead choosing to silently fume rather than actively and vocally protest.

The time it took for letters to reach the City from Colwen Grounds or vice versa had changed little over the years. It was an annoyance she could not avoid unless she returned to Colwen grounds, that was the only way where her orders and their ideas could be shared as soon as they occurred to them. Then, however, it would be her letters to The Wizard, and his hopeful replies, that would take a long time. So she took the option that would, with the current situation as it was, provide the most benefit in the long and short term.

Still. The Wizard had not replied to her first letter, or the second, or the third.

When no reply came after a week she poured over the ink splattered letter she had used as a draft, glad she had kept it in case she needed to reference its contents in a later letter. There was nothing in it that she saw as offensive or the least bit threatening.

_Perhaps he is simply busy._ She had thought, calming herself and letting another week past.

Then another.

* * *

"You seem awfully chirpy today."

Shell did not so much as twitch at the irate look she shot his way, instead he laughed far too loudly.

"Hungover?" He queried with a smile.

"No, Dear," Glinda sighed, "I am simply rather exasperated."

She shifted in her seat, tapping at the desk with a couple of fingers, it seemed she had claimed her husband's study over the last month or so, not that it really mattered as he rarely used it. If ever at all.

He leant against the doorframe, a single eyebrow raised as he faced her, "Shame. I thought you had finally loosened up." He tilted his head back before adding wistfully, "What fun we could have had."

She shook her head, rolling her eyes when he looked down to check his pocket watch.

"Someone not dignifying you with a worthy response?" He asked, closing his watch with a snap before returning it to his pocket.

"Or no response."

Shell hummed, a habit he had developed over their time together. He drew the sound out, tapping his chin as he did, "Since when has that ever stopped you?"

"I could say the same to you."

He rubbed at his chin, still appearing just as thoughtful, "Just what is it you are writing about?"

Glinda debated over wherever to lie or not, soon coming to the conclusion that Shell no doubt already new, and was simply seeing if she would be truthful.

"To The Wizard –

"I already figured _that_ out."

"You already have it all figured out." Glinda swiped at her brow, hoping she had not left a smudge of ink there as she had done a few days before, much to her own embarrassment when her maid had hesitantly pointed it out to her.

"Well, when your own wife won't open up, you have to." He rolled his shoulders, tilting his head to grin charmingly at her, "I deal in the collection of secrets."

Glinda sighed again, wondering if she now appeared to be deflating with the amount of air she had exhaled so harshly recently, "Your charm does not work on me."

"Oh, I know that." He paused to wink, "Why don't you simply ensure he is receiving your letters."

He reached behind himself to straighten his collar from back to front, spinning on his heel as he did.

"Enjoy your day working, Dear."

As the door clicked shut, Glinda realised that he might just be right.

Paper rustled as she sorted through the drawers of the desk, carelessly pushing objects aside as she took what she needed.

She would simply _have _to ensure that he was receiving what she was sending.

This would all be so much simpler if she were as smart as Elphaba –

Her grip tightened painfully on the metal handle of the top drawer, her heart churning.

She shook her head in a violent motion, blurring her sight with the fierce action. She did not know where Elphaba was, if they would even meet again. She had to do these things. Do these things on her _own_. She could not rely on others for the rest of her life.

Letting her grip relax, she lifted her hand before her seeing the pattern that adorned the handle had imprinted into the delicate skin of her palm. She wiggled her fingers, as if that would make the marks fade sooner.

She was doing this for her Ama.

No one else.

She had to remind herself of that.

It took a while before she was prepared to perform the spell. A clear mind, one free of swirling emotions or memories was required, lest something go terribly wrong. Not that there was much potential for damage if this spell went wrong (unlike a girl back at University who had been trying to conjure a small flame to heat some food; she had ended up losing quite a significant amount of her hair), still she wanted to ensure that it went perfectly. There was no room for errors. Not anymore.

She held both hands steady before her, hovering above the objects on the desk. Drawing in a slow breath she closed her eyes, focusing the gentle spark beneath her skin into her fingers and downwards.

It was a simple spell in reality, if it weren't for the time between her bouts of using her skill in this particular way. Though, surely, like when one learned to ride a horse, it was something you would never forget. And Sorcery was so ingrained in her, and this enchantment was used often enough at University. Girls could be terribly invasive of privacy, and in a dorm with many others, the use of the spell by the few Sorcery students ensured no one else would read their private thoughts or mail.

It took longer than she liked, but at last the tell-tale sign of a dark, almost black glow surrounded the envelope and the small slip of paper beside it, before fading leaving the paper just as it once was. Untouched and pure white.

Now, she just needed to write another letter about reunification and her willingness to discuss it, as she had in the first letter and the others that followed.

Hopefully it would not take too long this time, and hopefully she _would_ receive a reply.


	6. Chapter 6

**I apologise for the shortness of this chapter. I will honestly admit I made a mistake when it came to cutting up the story into chapters, accidently putting the separator in the wrong place resulting in the following being a chapter of its own rather than being at the end of the previous chapter as it should be.**

**Hopefully the length of the next chapter will make up for my error. **

* * *

The slip of paper she had chosen to keep by her bedside darkened. Glinda froze in the process of extinguishing the lamp beside it, both of her eyebrows shooting upwards at the sign that her letter had been received – though not necessarily by the intended recipient.

Sure, she had altered the spell somewhat to only react upon a certain individual opening the letter, but perhaps her alteration had not worked. It had, after all, been a significant length of time since she had used Sorcery of that particular type, let alone that exact spell, which she was certain she had not used since she had stopped chronicling her thoughts in diaries.

Of course, if her doubts proved false, than he _had_ been receiving her letters after all.

She brushed her hair from her eyes, not due to any strands being in her way, but more to keep her occupied as her mind ran through her thoughts.

She slid her legs out of bed, sitting on the edge while keeping her gaze solidly on that small slip of paper that signified so much.

Why, then, were there no replies?

Rooting through her mind for any possible causes for his dismissal, she came up empty. There was nothing offensive in her letters at all. Then perhaps it was due to something she could not possibly know about, after all she knew little about these types of situations and how to handle them, it was nothing she had ever been taught about.

Could that be the cause for his dismissal? That he knew she had little knowledge on these matters? Or was it, perhaps, because he did not know of her? Or perhaps because he knew that Elphaba was the former heir to the title and of the actions she was rumoured to be partaking in?

She bit the inside of her cheek, there she was thinking of Elphaba again.

She manoeuvred her feet into her house slippers, her brow creasing at her thoughts.

The fire had long ago dipped down in the grate, allowing a chill to permeate the air and sending a shiver through Glinda's form. She slipped on a robe, hoping it would help stave off the cold, and picked up the slip of paper.

All the reasons for The Wizard ignoring her seemed entirely plausible, but she would still feel better with someone else's opinion on the problem at hand.

Genfee, she decided in the end. He was a particularly deep-thinking Munchkin, he had seen so much for a man who had been in the same career for most of his life, perhaps he could shed more light on the matter. So far she had been impressed by the contents of his letters, and was more than a little proud of herself for making the decision to choose him as her confidant back at Colwen Grounds.

Disregarding her state of undress – not that Ella would be horrified seeing her in her nightclothes and robe, though it would be a rare sight – she ignored her tiredness. The sooner she wrote the letter, the sooner she would receive a response, and the sooner she could try to decide on her next course of action. Or should that be _their_ next course of action?

She left her room almost silently, and headed down the corridor towards the study.

She would wait, as she had before, but this time if no reply came from The Wizard in over a week, then she would have to decide on what to do next. And then act upon it. It was best to be fully prepared for such an event, so the sooner she had her new letter sent back to Munchkinland, the better.

* * *

The response came as swiftly as it could, with all things considered.

Ever since the letter had been sent, Glinda had found herself anxious to the point of pacing. More than once she had caught herself biting at her thumbnail, her forehead furrowed in stress. She was set on edge, and yet she did not know why. Besides knowing her correspondence was being received and ignored, nothing else had changed. Shell had mentioned once or twice that their – or rather his – acquaintances had picked up on her absence from all but the most important of events, even going so far as to joke that she had become a recluse.

She had found out, not from Shell, but from another companion that she was more fond of than the others, that he had shot back at their jokes. He had halted the jokes, explaining about Glinda's new position, though cleverly not mentioning that it was Munchkinland that she had gained a position of power in. After the secession of Munchkinland the population of Loyal Oz typically seemed to view anyone connected to Munchkinland as lesser, if not complete traitors to Oz.

At least that is what Glinda had deduced about Shell's words as their companion never mentioned it, nor seemed to realise that she was in _the_ position of power, not _a_ position.

Apparently after that their so called friends said no more on the matter.

It seemed odd on Shell's part for him not to gloat over his actions, but Glinda dismissed the thought. She had more important things on her mind.

She was at the desk in the study once again; it had gotten to the point that she may as well move her bed into the room. But being rumoured to be a recluse, and actually becoming one were two very different things, the latter of which she would wholeheartedly attempt to avoid happening.

By now she must have reread Genfee's reply a number of times, on the second read through she had taken a clean piece of paper and began writing down notes using a shorthand she had not used since her University days, and on some secret architecture plans she had doted upon during her free time. She felt a twist of sadness in her gut at that thought, when was the last time she had done something she actually enjoyed? Something for herself?

Her gaze dropped to the writing before her.

She had more important things to focus on.

Things she _had_ to focus on. Her own happiness could come later.

Genfee's thoughts made sense; a sense she would honestly rather be false, but now she saw that such naivety on her part may be damning. She had to see things with an open mind; she could not simply accept what she was told as the truth was just that. Like Elp –

Another twist in her gut, this one stronger and accompanied by a twinge in her head and a wavering of her gaze.

It seemed the more she tried to put aside her feelings about her, the stronger they became. She dropped her head, propping it up with her left hand, rubbing at the crease on her forehead with cold fingertips. This reaction, these thoughts, could not be healthy at all.

She had tried to ignore them, and now she was starting to think confronting them would have been the better plan. But she was not that strong, not yet. She had to ignore them. It was the only way.

Lowering her head, she tried to focus on the words before her once more.

His main theories concerned problems she was not completely aware of – besides the so called terrorist attacks that is.

He claimed that The Wizard could, and likely was, blaming Munchkinland for the increase in taxes on the public. Glinda had not noticed such an increase, though it was possible that only the poorer of their community were the ones being targeted. There were more of them after all, even if the upper-class did have more money available to them. Her thoughts on the matter did make some sort of sense, if The Wizard taxed the richest individuals, he too would have to pay a heavy amount.

Goods from Munchkinland, mostly grains and foods made from such, were some of the more heavily taxed items to both import and export. A loss for both countries surely.

The last theory he detailed in his letter, however, was the one that caught her attention the most. And if her memories of her essays so long ago were anything to go by, the last point was almost always the most important. The author would want the reader to remember that last point, to mull over it long after they had read their work.

And it did make a terrifying kind of sense. It, and everything else she had read or seen, or head, made her see the man they were raised to look up to was not the paragon of goodness and hope they were taught he was.

And that was a frightening thought.

Genfee detailed the terrorist attacks in the City – Glinda would surely have forgotten about those if Elphaba's name was not attached to them, for she had seen no evidence of any attacks herself. Though of course for the last few months she had spent most of her time secluded in her home like some sort of hermit, as the people they knew had joked.

Despite Elphaba's possible involvement (Genfee knew about that? …Of course he would), there was little evidence it was the sole doing of inhabitants of Munchkinland. In fact he seemed rather convinced that the terrorists were a 'mixed bag' of individuals from all over Oz.

If that was the case, Genfee concluded, then should they reunify and the attacks continue the general public would panic. They would know there were deeper problems in Oz, that there were people who were opposed to The Wizard's continued rule. People who saw the problems of Oz and could no longer stand by and watch the situation worsen.

_We are scapegoats._

The final words of his letter.

Glinda could not say whether his words, his descriptions of the problems were true. That people were suffering all over Oz, even with what little she _did_ know. It made sense though, and perhaps it was simply her fear that made her not want to accept everything as the complete truth.

But of one thing she was certain.

She had dismissed the words at the time, but now she saw the truth in them.

Elphaba had been right.

And now, that woman she had – she still cared for so deeply was gone, despite her earlier thoughts that she needed to ignore such feelings.

Now she saw that Elphaba had been corrupted and damaged by the world, she had experienced everything Glinda was learning second or third hand, first-hand, had she not?

But perhaps there was hope.

Perhaps she could make people see the truth.

Perhaps she could help them. Help her by helping them_._

That would be what Ama Clutch would want her to do, wouldn't it?


	7. Chapter 7

Ella squirmed in her seat opposite Glinda; the young girl from the border of Gillikin and the City looked unbelievably uncomfortable in something she should be long accustomed to. It was not all that surprising, Glinda rarely took the maid with her, barely paid her any attention besides the obvious requests for things she could not obtain herself – or did not have the patience or energy to retrieve.

But appearances had to be maintained, and Ella was not that bad a girl. She was quiet which was a good thing, and willing to do what she must to serve.

The carriage had been rolling forward for a good length of time now, feasibly there could not be much longer until they reached the Palace.

This was her last ditch effort to receive some sort of response.

While it had now become clear to her that The Wizard was not someone to be revered – not if he was unwilling to fix the problems between Munchkinland and the rest of Oz – there was still a part of her that wished to cling to the image painted of him in her youth. And really, was it not a logical step to ensure something hundred percent before rushing into action? That was the sensible thing to do, was it not?

Rightly she could not fully condemn an individual until she knew for certain. She had to keep an open mind.

So, in order to distract herself from her thoughts, Glinda observed herself in the glass of the carriage window, rearranging any errant curls of hair and checking her hair remained in the intricate chignon she had spent a good portion of the morning styling.

Pleased with herself (it _had_ taken quite a long time for her to practice the style on her own) she looked away from her reflection, her eyes catching something else outside the window. Paper from the looks of it, messily adorning the brickwork opposite. What an eyesore.

There was a shout outside.

A crash. And with a jolt the carriage stopped abruptly.

Glinda caught herself on the seat and wall, righting herself swiftly while Ella scrambled against the seat opposite. Her heart beating heavily in her chest, and her lungs fighting for an increased amount of air, Glinda turned her gaze turned back to the window just in time to see vegetables of all colours bouncing into view.

Her brow furrowed.

Finally managing to right herself, Ella offered to jump out of the carriage and see what was happening, anything to escape the overbearing silence. Glinda gave her permission with a curt nod, sending the girl clambering out of the carriage with a whoosh of cold air.

A few minutes passed with no sign of movement. Running her fingers over her hands, she returned her attention to the wall opposite to tut disapprovingly at the mess which had caught her attention before.

The paper plastered on the walls was weather beaten and damaged, still, there was no doubting whose face was displayed there. The images may be crude and not at all representative of who they were meant to detail, but there was no denying the bright green paint sloshed across the papers.

Glinda's breath caught in her lungs, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip before she could stop herself.

The rumours were just that, rumours. But now –

Now he was after her, or at least others were.

_Oh Elphie, what have you done?_

She had to do something.

Despite her thoughts and decisions on the matter, she _had_ to do something.

But _where_ was she?

How could she help if she did not know where she was?

No, she squeezed her eyes shut, she was supposed to be helping everyone, not just Elphaba.

Even so, things were worse than she had thought. Her life could be on the line.

Another short burst of air hit her as Ella hopped back into the carriage; her cheeks redden by the chill of the wind.

"A cart carrying goods lost a wheel, Lady Glinda, it shouldn't take long to move it out the way and pick the vegetables back up."

Glinda tried to think of something to say, some pointless string of words that could show how irritated she was by the event while not being too heavy handed. Instead, her nose scrunched up as she muttered an offended, "I do hope they do not plan on selling the dropped goods."

The skin between Ella's brows crinkled, "Um, I don't suppose they would."

Glinda forced her eyes away from the brick wall covered with papers and paint. Crossing her arms in her lap. Silence reigned over them once more; Ella busied herself by checking the papers beside her were still firmly in place and in order. Clever girl.

The sooner they continued their journey, the better.

She had to focus on the reason she was going there, not her rapidly building ire.

* * *

If this had occurred during her younger days then Glinda would have, without a shadow of a doubt, huffed her annoyance and stamped her foot in impatience. Instead, Ella was doing a fine job of struggling to cover up her own restlessness while she, herself, remained calm on the surface.

She had sent word in advance of her arrival there, deeming a reply not necessary in this particular situation, not that she would have expected to receive one.

They had been greeted at the Palace and taken to a gaudy waiting room decked in an even more nauseating green. The hard back of the chair dug into the base of Glinda's spine painfully, an ache having rapidly built there over time.

She had seen a few people pass through a corridor viewable through an open archway. She had not paid any attention to them at first, until she pieced together the layout of that section of the Palace in her mind. Unless there had been some extremely unusual architectural work done, the meeting chamber would be in the area that those people were walking to and away from.

After that deduction she had paid closer attention to the small number of people who passed. Some workers, officials and only one man who made her raise an eyebrow. He was dressed in the finest clothes, a bundle of documents held under his arm. There was no doubting that, like her, he was also a visitor.

The volume of the ticking of some tic-tok device had seemed to grow with time, becoming a pounding thrum in her temple.

The longer she spent sitting there the madder she seemed to be growing, and not just in the emotional sense.

Her left hand clutched tightly at the material of her dress, her right rising to push her thumb between her eyebrows, as if to smooth the furrow that had formed and seemingly stuck there.

Ella shifted in her seat beside her, the bundle of paper gripped tightly in her lap as if it were some precious cargo, which in reality it was.

Finally, the man who had greeted them re-entered the room from a side door. Glinda looked at his face and neatly groomed facial hair with distain.

She rose to her feet, ignoring etiquette. The man bowed his head, though there was something stiff about his movement. Something that made her fight back a scowl.

"He is not accepting any visits today." Were the blunt words of the red haired man.

Thankful for her years of practice, Glinda did not let the rapidly building heat of anger show on her face.

"I suppose that rather neat man who left his chamber mere moments ago was an illusion I conjured up."

The man was unable to hide his surprise, his reaction enough to please her considerably because she had been correct in her guess, "Err… he has had no visitors today, I –

"Do _not_ lie to me. It would not be in your best interests to."

She heard the shuffle of Ella's feet beside her, but Glinda paid her no attention.

"But it is true." The man lost his polite composure, spreading his hands, his face so earnest that it was far too easy to see it as the falsity that it was.

Her face heated in a way that could only come from anger, her hands curling into fists. Her battle to control herself rapidly failing as the next words fell from her lips with a venom that had not graced them in a very long time, "You have had us waiting here, for _hours_, just to inform us he is seeing no one?"

"I cou – couldn't receive a response for a while."

"Because he was too busy entertaining other visitors?"

"No!" The man said far too quickly.

Glinda, appearing far larger than her rather average height would suggest, folded her arms across her chest and with a tilt of her chin upwards, turned on her heel.

Enough was enough. She was having no more of _this_.

"Come Ella." She was sure she heard the girl squeak at her tone, "We are leaving."

As they made their way out the man muttered something beneath his breath that she could not quite pick up on. Not that she cared, not any more.

* * *

It was a peculiar feeling that washed over Glinda as dense, ash thick smoke wafted past the carriage's window. It was like a tugging in her upper chest and a force pressing at her back.

A thump on the roof of the carriage brought their journey to a brief halt, the driver only rolling the carriage forward for a few moments more in order to avoid the wind carrying the smoke in their direction.

"Lady Glinda?"

She rubbed at her hand, not realising how hard she had hit the roof with the side of her fist.

"I have to do something, wait here. I will not be long."

Ella's brow crinkled, but she knew better than to question her employer. With the grace of practice, Glinda exited the carriage, the driver seemed surprised to see her rather than her maid, but he did not vocalise his thoughts on the matter.

"I will be back shortly." She informed him, even though she had no idea where she was going, let alone just why she was going there.

The blue of the sky was slowly being consumed by orange as she walked the short distance from the street they were on to the square opposite, following that odd tugging in her chest. Her eyes soon began to sting even though the smoke was not blowing in her direction, the scent of burning wood and something else that smelt not quite woody hit her.

The glow of the orange in the sky seemed brighter as she stopped on the edge of the square, the central library, the main one for the City was to her right. To the left she saw the source of the smoke that irritated her throat and eyes. And the source of the glow.

A massive bonfire, tended to by men in green uniforms. The Wizard's men. While it had been growing colder there was still a few months until they celebrated the coming of winter. Why would they start the bonfire that early?

The pulling feeling intensified, drawing her attention back to it. It almost seemed as if it were directing her, guiding her to the right, to the Library, just in time to see two more uniformed men carrying a cart down the steps, their faces red with the strain.

Glinda watched them as if in a trance, only coming back to herself when they placed the cart down and wheeled it past her. There was a significant distance from them to her, but even so she could see the contents of the cart. Books.

They did not stop until they reached the fire, two other men turned from it to wheel an empty cart in the direction the other men had just come from. The still red faced men reached into the cart and began throwing the contents into the flames.

Glinda's lips parted, unable to contain her shock. She looked around, for the first time seeing the few others watching proceedings, but many more were rushing about their day, avoiding looking at what was occurring. Glinda copied them, looking to the library, acknowledging that foreign feeling within her and following it up the steps and into the lobby of the building.

She had been here a few times before to study the intricate arches and murals, but today she had no time for that. Seemingly still controlled by another she looked around at the piles of books placed around the lobby, like a fort built by a child.

A number of neatly dressed people were piling the books up like towers, appearing glum as they did so. One of them, a bespectacled gentleman registered her presence and rushed over to her with a determined expression.

It was only when he drew closer, and after he swiped at his glasses with the bottom of his shirt and placed them back on his nose, that the expression fell.

"Ah. My apologies my Lady, we have had trouble with ruffians attempting to lift books."

"Lift?" Glinda asked, her brain not quite in gear all of a sudden.

"Umm," the man hummed, "Steal, my apologies again my Lady."

He chuckled to himself, the sound lacking any genuine mirth.

"Why are these books being taken to the fire?"

The librarian pushed at his glasses with two fingers, glancing around himself he spotted two men in uniform taking out another full cart. He waited until they left before speaking.

"All libraries in the City and any private collectors have been sent lists of banned books. If any of those books are found in our collections after next week we will be fined."

"Banned books? May I ask which?"

The librarian fiddled with his glasses, rearranging them on his ears, "The same lists will be sent to everyone who resides in the City come two weeks' time."

Glinda would have pressed the matter if it weren't for the look in the man's eyes. It was a look of pleading and perhaps a little fear, enough to silence Glinda's outward curiosity.

One of the other librarians excused herself as she squeezed past them to lay an armful of books on the pile besides them.

A book on top of the pile caught Glinda's attention, it was clutched in her hands before she could register picking it up.

The female librarian jumped, the male calmed her down, laying a hand on her upper arm.

"May… may I look at this?" She asked, fighting her embarrassment at reacting in such a way.

There was something about the book, something that sent her senses tingling. Her innate Sorcery skills prickling beneath her skin.

The man nodded, his eyes dropping as he spoke, "That one is only there because it is untranslatable, the soldiers picked up on it and insisted it be thrown in with the rest. Just in case there was anything suspect in it."

"They did not believe it is untranslatable?" Glinda queried, cradling the book to her chest.

"Yes. It's a shame, it is one of a kind." The man said, gesturing behind him, "Or so I believe. Read it in the back, but return it."

He seemed genuinely upset at the prospect of the book being destroyed. It seemed odd to Glinda that someone could grow emotionally attached to paper and leather. Still, the book was rather beautiful to look at.

"Of course," she replied, already making her way into the back to find some privacy and see just why she seemed drawn to the book.

She found a secluded corner on the ground floor, not that it was truly needed for there appeared to be no other visitors in the library save for her.

The carriage was waiting for her, and she knew she should feel the guilt of making them wait with no word of what she was doing. Yet, she did not.

She shifted her weight on the cushioned seat she occupied, it was in a window overlooking the square and the burning fire in the centre. Glowing brighter now against the darkened sky, the smoke curling off the flames a beacon in the night's sky.

With more time allotted to her she could now study the book. It was a large, thick volume bound in rich leather. The writing on the cover, though she could not read it, nor even recognise the lettering as just that – letters – were composed of intricate gold letters. It would fetch a pretty price. A prime target despite its size and weight. She could see why the librarians were worried about people stealing the books, if thieves could make a profit on something then they would steal them. Though whether the punishment for not destroying a listed book would fall on the thieves' heads or the librarians, she did not know.

She flicked through the book, a few pages had titles at the top, but besides that they were strangely blank. Like a newly brought dairy.

Had the librarian not said the book was untranslatable? Glinda thought, thoroughly baffled.

Unless it had been some sort of joke on his part, but he had seemed sadly serious.

Then what was happening?

It was then she remembered that odd pull she had felt towards the book. A feeling she had not felt for a _very_ long time. Was there some sort of spell upon the pages? It was a possibility…

Closing her eyes, she hovered both hands over one of the pages with an unreadable title, focusing and stretching her sense to attempt to detect any sort of Sorcery that may have been present around the book.

She gasped. A sharp, but not painful jolt striking her form. More a push against her front than anything else.

Opening her eyes she saw nothing had changed on the pages.

This was beyond her. Whatever it was.

The gaslight opposite her seat flickered, catching her attention.

Another gasp.

Her hands trembled upon the book. For when she turned back to it, more of that unreadable writing had appeared where before there had only been white space.

"What…" She murmured, her voice small and near silent.

As her gaze fixed on the page the letters, if they could even be called that, seemed to twist, or morph, whirling across the page, putting to mind a colony of ants reforming themselves or escaping. They continued to contort before her eyes until finally, at last, coming to a rest.

The title was one word. History.

She glanced at the first line.

The book tumbled from her hands. A loud _thump_ echoing through the silent room.

Her breathing ragged, her whole form shook as her heart resumed beating heavily.

The first two words had struck her like a slap.

_Galinda Arduenna._

She raised a shaking hand, placing it to her forehead. This was some gross trick surely. Someone was trying to make her feel as if she had lost her mind, or losing it, someone was trying to terrify her.

She struggled to regulate her breathing, but once she could breathe more steadily and her form no longer shook to such an obscene degree. She retrieved the book from the floor. Luckily (or not considering her slowly building panic) the book had landed open on the page she was on.

But now as she gazed on it, the writing was much the same as it was before. Meaning unreadable.

Maybe her overtaxed and stressed mine was merely playing tricks on her.

Or so she told herself as she stared at the page, until the words began to swirl again.

She blinked, but they continued their dance.

When they had settled, she forced herself to take a breath and read, her mind too shocked to fully comprehend what could possibly be happening.

_Galinda Arduenna sired by Larena Arduenna and Highmuster Talmadge._

She stopped, flicking over some pages on a whim, and sure enough, there was more.

She skimmed the pages, her chest heaving as more and more details of her childhood were listed. The time she had been bitten by a cow of all things; the time when in her stubbornness she had climbed a tree and became stuck only a few feet from the ground; her war with the ducks that lived around a pond near the local school.

She turned the pages, faster and faster, her heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribs, each breath she pulled in growing shallower.

Suddenly the end. Sometime in the middle of her childhood.

A blank page save for the singular word title.

_Departures._

She closed her eyes. Pressed them shut tightly as her mind struggle to catch up to what was happening, what this could mean. How it could even happen.

Shaking her head she opened her eyes.

Her head ached as she turned back a couple of pages only to see the words had changed, detailing events when she was older. She began reading before she could realise what had happened. Her etiquette lessons; her aunt she had meet once or twice with brilliant red hair which she admired so much. The room filled with the sound of turning pages until she landed once more on the page that started it all, _History_, and sure enough, the writing there had change also.

It was too much.

She let her head fall back, resting against the side of the alcove.

Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of something that made absolutely none.

No one could have known about all of that. Even her parents were clueless to some of the events detailed in the pages. Sweet Lurline! What if it was her Ama playing a trick on her from the afterlife?

"… Perhaps that was a little foolish of me."

She looked up the impressive paintings on the ceiling, still, her mother had always insisted that there was a realm beyond their own. And that there could be interaction between the two realms.

Even so…

What would Elphaba make of it all?

Her confusion made a swift departure, replaced instead by anger. How many times did she have to tell herself not to defer to Elphaba for everything? They had not even known one another for that long.

And yet, if Glinda was being honest with herself, that short relationship – and not just the more intimate aspect of it – was the most fulfilling one she had ever, and likely would ever, have.

Besides, this was out of Elphaba's areas of expertise, this was something only someone who was an expert in Sorcery would understand. Perhaps someone who had studied the very history and lore of the subject. Not someone like either of them, but perhaps someone like Locasta, she was an Adept after all.

Or perhaps it was best to keep this find to herself. Who knew just what it could do?

She righted herself, she had been gone for a long time now, it was a wonder neither the driver or Ella had come looking for her. Unless they had. She was in a rather private area, and all but completely hidden from sight. She needed to get back to them, the sooner the better.

_Elphaba Thropp_ –

What? Glinda blinked, checking that she was not seeing things. Her previous haste to depart vanishing in an instant.

_ – sired by Melena Thropp and Oscar Zoroaster Phadrig –_

Glinda stopped short. No one could possibly have a name that long, not even some of the more fanciful people she had been acquainted with. Was this some sort of odious joke, an errant spell made to agonise her mind. To cause her even more anguish? She had thought that before, and now perhaps she had her evidence. For why else would this happen?

But it had known so much about her life. So much so it could only ever be true, that whatever this was showed a person's past. Their every key moment.

Wait…

That was not Frex's name as the father, and if this book told the truth, than who was that man it mentioned? Did Elphaba know Frex was not her father? Doubtful, she knew Nessa wasn't, but had never hinted that she was not as well.

She must be unaware of the truth.

It was wrong, to continue reading. When it was her own past detailed in the pages there was no shame or guilt in reading the pages, for it was about _her_. This, however, was not about her. And not only that, this was about someone she cared so deeply about despite everything that had occurred between them.

It was wrong, and yet she found herself unable to turn from the book. To her minor relied, however, her eyes refused to focus on the pages as she flicked through them, just in case the words were true (which she knew to be true, for herself at least), it was not her place to snoop in someone's past unless it was they who told her. Especially not this person's past.

How different to whom she had been so long ago.

The pages ended abruptly, the beginning of the next section, the one titled _Departures_, on the opposite page. She darted her eyes over the page, Elphaba at seven years of age. It ended in much the same place as it had when it was her on the pages.

Overall the events mentioned seemed to only be important, (though some seemed not, at least not yet. Who knew what the future held?) Maybe some were only important to the person and that was why they were mentioned. At least that was her conclusion from seeing her own pages.

For the pages to jarringly end was an annoyance, and Glinda showed as must with an angry huff. Then a thought occurred.

Turning back to the beginning of the section she recalled how the book had changed before. Had she been thinking of Elphaba at the time? Now she thought back, she was certain that she had – so perhaps if she…

She closed her eyes, (it did help to focus!), and turned her thoughts to Elphaba, shortly after they met, the Elphaba she remembered rather than the one she had become.

Opening her eyes she turned her focus back to the page she was on, this time she caught the words as they shifted and whirled about the page, parting and joining to form different shapes.

Once more she turned her eyes away and flicked through the pages at high speed, she was unsure what it was she was searching for, only that the pull that had led her there in the first place had returned. At one moment she swore she saw her own name, or the name she once had, and was tempted to stop and read.

She did not, she trusted Elphaba, and she believed what she had told her. Though Elphaba said little about her feelings, her actions were proof enough for Glinda, and actions often spoke louder than words. She knew that now.

Of course after their last encounter she should not be thinking this way, Elphaba had said some things to the contrary of what Glinda, in her heart, believed, but Elphaba did have an acid tongue that only grew more acidic in anger, sadness. Or guilt.

And, at the end of the day, if the truth was different she would rather live in ignorance, believing a lie that brought her some comfort and happiness despite the pain it could also cause. Sometimes it was easier to accept a simple lie than a harmful truth.

She reached the end of the section, skimmed the page and turned to the front once more. Closed her eyes and copied her previous actions.

It seemed she had found the key to working the book.

She repeated the process a number of times, feeling a little more weary with each change. Each time she repeated the process it became a little clearer as to what it was she was after, though it was not until it happened that it became completely obvious to her. The force pressing at her skin dispelling in that moment.

A few times the writing jumped to different ages, she had to refocus, clear her mind and try again. She kept trying until the writing ended before she got to the start of the new section. Current events so to speak.

This time she read, but only the last few lines, and one word stood out.

_Kiamo Ko._

A person? A location, perhaps?

If it were a location, Glinda breathed in slowly, then she knew where she was.

The light in the room flickered, catching her attention. It was the same one that had disturbed her before. It brought her back to herself, to where she was and just how long she had been sitting in the window.

Lurline! What would her driver and maid think? Or more importantly, what would they say to others about her odd behaviour? Her social circle had already deemed her a hermit and who knows what else was being said behind her back?

She hurried to her feet, stumbling on her heels when one of her legs turned out to have become numb. She gave it just enough time to regain some feeling before she was rushing, across the library, heels hitting the lovely floors with a rapid tapping.

She knew where Elphaba was, but what to do with that information?

Well, first things first it was best to keep it to herself.

But the book, what if someone else found it. What if they figured out how it functioned much as she had? The possibility that they would think to use it to track down a terrorist was slim, but even so. It was a powerful object, one that would cause a lot of damage in the wrong hands, and possibly a lot of good in someone else's grasp. Unfortunately she did not fall into the latter, but she could prevent the former from happening.

She fumbled with book as she tugged her scarf off in a rare, rough motion, wrapping it around the book as best as she could.

More than a little eager to get back she increased her pace and shifted the bundle in her arms. The book would have to remain there for now, and for once she wished for stronger arms. Hopefully to an onlooker it would appear to be nothing more than a pile of scarves, though if they were to look closer... she shook the thought away, why should anyone question her on a book. Even if stopped by a member of the Gale Force it should pose no problem, it was not even a book that was on the list of undesirables the librarians were forced to cross off. And she was high in society, she had the power to do what she wanted, within reason of course.

There were more people in the lobby now. Glinda stuck to the edge of the room, head bowed as she headed to the entrance, the book held closer to her chest than was comfortable.

She did not feel all that guilty for stealing the book, the librarian had seemed to be distressed by the book being added to the piles to be destroyed. She was saving it. In this case, she could excuse herself for doing something so underhanded and potentially criminal.

Luckily, or not, some of those previous mentioned ruffians had gotten into the library and were distracting the librarians by attempting to pilfer some of the books. She could not be sure, what with her head kept low, but she thought she spied decidedly more Upper Class people loitering nearby, perhaps they intended to save some of the knowledge that was soon to be destroyed, risking the punishment. Or make some money off it.

For an 'ordered destruction' it was becoming quite unorganised, she thought as she exited into the square only to see more people than before. Some of them approached the soldiers at the bonfire, gesturing widely in what could only be assumed to be an argument. More were joining them, both soldiers and members of the public facing off to one another.

Glinda knew well enough when something troublesome was about to break out. However, the fights she was used to were filled with veiled insults and snide comments, not yelling and screaming. And definitely not physical exchanges.

A yell.

Glinda hurried down the steps, almost tripping down the second to last one, rushing towards the carriage.

The scent of smoke, the sting against her eyes did not mask the sight of a man being knocked to the ground. Soldiers descending on the fallen man, batons drawn.

She struggled to breathe, a lump forming in her throat, her lungs struggling to draw in air that was not tainted.

It couldn't be happening!

She spared a glance over her shoulder, a sweat breaking across her brow as the shouting had turned into a full out battle.

"Lady Glinda?" She faced forward, Ella stood by the open door of the carriage, her hands wringing worriedly, "Are you okay? Would you like me to carry that?"

The driver said nothing, though his mixture of irritation and annoyance was palatable even though he had not looked directly at Glinda.

"No it's quite alright, as am I. Though thank you for the concern." The girl turned her head to hide the shock her sentiments had caused her, Glinda was unaware a 'thank you' could cause that reaction. And more than a little bit shocked herself. Fear had an odd way of affecting people.

"In." She ordered as she could not gesture easily with her hands full.

Ella scrambled into the carriage, tripping and stumbling in her haste to make room for Glinda.

Before she followed, Glinda turned to the driver, her face a mask of stern concern, "There appears to be a fight taking place in the square, it would be best to return home as swiftly as possible."

If Ella's shaking and the almost sarcastic way the driver tipped his hat was anything to go by, they were all too aware of what the shouting and other sounds meant. Glinda ignored that, there were more important things to worry about.

It was not until she was in the carriage as it made its swift way to her house that Glinda allowed the beating of her heart to calm.

What if, she thought as she sat there, head bowed and the heavy weight of the book pressing against her lap. What if they thought she had something to do with the conflict in the square? At first they might have thought she had disappeared for some illicit liaison, not that she would have been panicked by such an assumption. No.

But to be gone for so long, then come running when the fighting had begun. Well, that could look suspicious.

Or was she simply overthinking the situation? What was to say they were thinking anything like that at all? What was to say her obvious guilt would not _make_ them think such things, when before the thoughts would not even cross their minds.

She felt her cheeks pinken beneath her concern, she had been so caught up in the moment she had not thought too much about the situation. There was no need for her to have done what she had. She could have offered to buy the book, though it did look beyond the amount she could easily spend without question. Even if it was added to the list only one solider and the librarian definitely knew about it. She could have easily have made a deal with the librarian. Sure there was the slight possibility she would have had to explain why she would want a book in an unknown, or dead, language. But she could have bluffed, explained that she just appreciated the appearance of it.

Going from breath stopping panic, to such a niggling concern was ridiculous. And it was giving her quite the headache.

Glinda rubbed her temple and waved off the concern shown by her maid, seeing the silhouette of her home through the window was already easing the pain. She could think when she got back.


	8. Chapter 8

Glinda idly smoothed a hand over the leather of the book, her chin resting on her other hand as she gazed out of the window at the cloudy sky. She was perched in the window seat of her room in an almost mimic of the day she had found the book, its heavy weight in her lap helped to ground her, it filled her mind with floating thoughts about it rather than what she should be thinking about, or what she knew she would be thinking of despite her wishes, instead.

It was both a curse and a blessing.

A few days had passed since her visit to the library and her exposure to the events that followed, however distant from them she was, and she still had yet to decide on just _what_ she should do. It was all beyond her. She had not been raised to deal with situations like this, the most she had been taught was how to retaliate to backhanded compliments, not to political dealings and potential riots.

What had occurred in the square outside of the library had been explained away in the local press. It was claimed the men and woman she had seen there were working against the interest of the general public, that they were some of the terrorists that they had been warned about. Those that had not died in the brief yet violent conflict had been rounded up and arrested.

Even though Glinda had seen very little of what had occurred, for she had ran, there was no doubting that the words being used to describe the people were lies. They had seemed very much like normal, everyday individuals, none of them appeared to be hardened criminals. Which raised the question of just why The Wizard was having these things said? For he had confirmed the words present in the papers.

It was foolish of her to ponder on such things, for had Genfee not already explained why he thought Munchkinland in particular was a target? Perhaps it was much the same for those poor people who were now behind bars, if they were lucky.

So much for the book grounding her and distracting her from her worries.

A soft knock on the door was a thankful reprieve from her circling thoughts.

"Yes?"

The door opened slowly, Ella came into the room with her head bowed but a determined set to her features. She closed the door behind her and fidgeted with her hands, her head still low.

Glinda had enough of her sense left to pick up on the anxiety clearly bubbling just below the maid's skin, "Ella? What is it?"

"Umm…" The girl hummed, her eyes darting up only to drop down a second later. A motion she repeated a few times before settling with her head raised, for the most part, however her eyes still flitted around.

"Ella?" Glinda repeated, her voice even and without even a hint of irritation. It seemed her mulling over her thoughts had mellowed her somewhat, or perhaps she was simply exhausted.

"There's… there is something you should be made aware of, Lady Glinda."

Glinda placed the book on the cushion before her and righted herself into a more prim pose, anything to cover up the prickling of distress against her skin, for she had never seen the maid display or vocalise, in tone rather than words, a deep-seated agitation or fear.

"There's a rumour." Ella paused, likely to collect her thoughts.

It felt as if the pit of Glinda's stomach had dropped. Her throat becoming dry as she swallowed her rising panic.

It appeared she had been correct. Ella, the driver and any others who knew would assume she had something to do with the trouble, and all because she could not control her actions. Instead she would jump into things before pausing and thinking it over. She was supposed to be better than that.

How was she supposed to fix this? She could fire the girl. Then her words would be questioned, she could be spreading such viciousness out of spite for losing her job. But then Glinda would also have to rid herself of the driver, and she had no idea if the duo had told anyone else. She could not possibly get away with ridding herself of two workers and then hunting down anyone else who knew to… well what could she do? Blackmail them?

No, she couldn't do that. Still, she had to do something, and that was better than nothing so –

Ella continued before she could do just that.

"About the head terrorist's name –

Head terrorist?

" – that she shares your name."

"I am an Arduenna." It had been to a number of confused, and in some cases offended, looks and comments that Glinda had originally revealed that she had refused to give up her own name. Something that she was not entirely sure upset or pleased her parents. Either way, while legally her name had changed, she still used her former, as did most if not all of her correspondences. For her name had only been changed on that insignificant slip of paper, in the name of some outdated belief of the very 'traditional values' she once held so dear. Out of nurture, not nature. She wondered how her mother and father had managed to adopt her name instead of his.

"Oh, Lady Glinda." Ella moved closer, her voice lowing to the point Glinda had to strain her ears to catch her every word.

There was no anger or suspicion in her tone, did she agree with the role she believed Glinda to have, or had Glinda jumped too quickly in her conclusions again?

"Your husband..."

"What of Shell?" Had he done something questionable again?

"He is related to the terrorist, to The Witch. He is likely working with her, and you… I know what you are doing, Lady Glinda."

Glinda's expression did not falter as she tried to sort out what she knew and what Ella believed, but she was struggling to make sense of any of it. The maid believed Shell was a terrorist? Glinda swallowed her sense of dread, what if Ella reported him? What if she already had? The thought sent a wave of panic over her form, that would not look good on her.

Wait… what did she mean by knowing what she was doing?

Finger's digging into her upper thigh, Glinda forced herself to remain still. She had already seen the folly of jumping to conclusions a multitude of times, she needed to remain calm and wait the girl's words out. Then and only then could she act.

"What is it you believe I am doing?"

"There is no need to lie to me, Lady Glinda, I will not breath a word to anyone else. I swear on it." Ella lifted her hand, and pressed three fingers together over her heart. An action which accompanied the promises of Glinda's childhood.

"Your letters to The Wizard, you being in the place of the conflict a few nights ago. The item you took." Ella gestured to the book. Glinda cursed her inability to think on the spot, she should have hidden it better when she first took it.

"What is it you are suggesting?"

Ella smiled, her eyes shining with genuine warmth and idolisation.

"You are helping The Wizard. That is why he could not meet with you, he didn't want to blow your cover. You are helping stop the terrorists that are a threat to us all." Clearly baffled now Glinda's brow furrowed, trying to understand just how Ella had come to such a conclusion, but she failed spectacularly. She had never been too skilled at getting into the minds of those of a lower rank than herself. And even those of the same rank was a struggle at times, particularly when she could not focus for certain reasons.

"That is why I had to warn you about your husband, you could be at risk –

"There is no need Ella," Glinda said gently, trying to ease the girl's mind and use her gullibility to her advantage, falling into the role remarkably easily, "I have heard that rumour and can assure you, that is not the name of… The Witch. Shell is no terrorist."

"Oh…" Ella breathed, her spine straightening and the crease of her worry evaporating from her features. Glinda returned her smile, though for entirely different reasons, "What a relief, and soon we will no longer fear them or The Witch."

Since when had people begun to refer to Elphaba as a witch? She had no talent in Sorcery, Glinda of all people should know that as that fact that it is.

"And why is that?"

If Ella thought the question was odd coming from someone who she believed was leading, in part, the action against the terrorists, she did not show it.

"Why the assassins of course."

_Assassins!_

"They were revealed yesterday and will be departing in just under a week to kill The Witch."

Her heart was hammering now, her blood freezing like ice in her veins.

They were going to _kill_ Elphaba.

_Kill_.

She needed… she needed to do _something._

How many times had that thought entered her mind recently? And just how often had she dismissed it, even when she promised herself and her Ama that she would not?

Maybe Ella was mistaken, "Is the point of assassins not to kill someone without anyone knowing until it is too late, if at all."

Ella flushed, "I – I am just retelling what I heard."

"Or it's for show."

They both jumped, Glinda managing to hide her own surprise, and turned to the source of the voice. Shell had, at some point, slipped into the room obviously unnoticed until now.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He raised an eyebrow at Glinda, gesturing with a flourish as he began to explain, "Scare her into giving herself up, make her concerned for her life. That way he can extract information from the woman."

"_If_ she gives herself up," Glinda replied, neither she nor Shell wanting to reveal their connection to Elphaba before another.

"How do they know where she is," Ella piped up, a hand jumping to her mouth when she realised she had spoken out of turn. Neither Shell or Glinda scolded her for her rudeness.

"They must do," Shell answered with a shrug, "Or the threat would hold no weight."

Shell had clearly known this, and yet he had not told her. Why? She met his eyes, beneath the sparkle they always held was something else, fear, acceptance? He knew what she was going to do, didn't he? Or assumed he did.

Glinda was clueless to how The Wizard knew where Elphaba was, but he wasn't the only one. If she knew Elphaba, which she was no longer sure was true, then she knew without a doubt that Elphaba would not hand herself in. She would rather wait for her inevitable death than give herself up. Her stubbornness a gift at times, and a blatant curse more often than not.

It was selfish of her, of Glinda, to fear that occurring. To want to stop it. But she would. She would protect Elphaba, she could not knowingly let her die. Even if it was in Elphaba's own stubbornness that her own death would find her.

She _had_ to go to her.

* * *

She paused to observe herself in her mirror, despite its simplicity the dress she was wearing was actually quite flattering. It brought a smile to her lips, she was afraid it would leave her looking much like a sack of vegetables.

After sorting through her dresses she had quickly discovered that there were few that were actually practical for what she had planned. So she sent Ella away with a decent amount of money and some very specific instructions.

The maid had done well, very well. The dresses were pleasing to look at (well as pleasing as they could be) and more than capable of functioning as she needed them to. Which in this case was to simply not get in her way, or make the journey more difficult than it needed to be.

It was mad, really. To drop everything in such a way as she was.

Glinda's eyes fluttered shut as she composed herself, she needed to remember that she was doing this for a _good_ reason. Her disappearance would be noted, but it would have little to no impact on anyone of note. The majority of Loyal Oz paid no attention to the goings on in their neighbouring countries, let alone Munchkinland now it had seceded, so she was all but unknown to them for now.

The day before she had hurriedly penned a letter explaining, as much as she could without causing any problems, that she would be departing for an unspecified amount of time, as well as listing some items of concern that she believed the recipient should be made aware of. Hopefully Genfee would receive it in good time and understand just what she was warning him off beneath her veiled words.

Who knew, with things as they were – with the things she was now aware of and that she had seen – her mail, as well as others could very well be monitored. Especially if the writing was going across the border to Munchkinland. It was best to be as cautious as possible. Something she should have thought of earlier.

Perhaps she was being paranoid. But now she saw that such behaviour could be, within reason, beneficial.

Ella had helped her arrange a lot of what she needed to do in advance, though Glinda had been careful to monitor and control just how much the maid was aware of. It made her feel more than a little bit nauseous, for was that not what The Wizard was doing to all of them?

She had to remind herself that what she was doing was for the safety of the maid, for if she knew where she was going she could very well become a target if such a terrible thing were to happen. She was sure it wouldn't, but one could never be _too _careful.

Besides, judging from that idolising look that still resided in Ella's eyes, the maid had already come up with her own conclusion as to what Glinda was doing. There was a brief moment when Glinda considered correcting the girl's mistaken belief, but it lasted for just that – a brief moment. Let her believe what she wants if it made things easier for them both.

The few belongings she deemed necessary enough to take with her were packed in a single bag, beside it was that book. She had yet to understand what the title claimed its name to be, and sadly lacked the imagination to think of a name for it herself.

The Carriage Train was leaving that day. It had taken her sometime to track down just where that castle, the one named by the book, was, but now she knew. The Carriage Train reached its end at a nearby village, she hoped from there she could find someone to take her the rest of the way.

Madness. For her to even consider such a journey! But it had to be done. She could not let the relationship between her and Elphaba remain in such a state, even if she could do nothing to help, or more importantly save her, she could at least ease the pain that stretched between them.

Perhaps it was selfish of her, for she doubted that the pain was equal in both of them. It was fear, she believed, fear that it was she who cared more. In part due to keeping that promise shared between them so long ago. But even if that was the truth, it would be wrong of her to simply sit in her home in the City and do nothing. To watch as events played out. Not just the events concerning Elphaba, but those that were occurring in the very city where she lived. Watched as people suffered, just as she had heard but never seen. Not until that night in the square.

Her things prepared, Glinda hesitated, biting at her thumb nail. There was no going back from what she was going to do. She could not change her mind halfway through the trip and demand to be brought back. If she left, she had no choice but to see it through to the end – whatever that end would be.

But ends could be shaped and moulded, if a person knew what they were doing.

No. She could not just sit back. This was something she needed to do.

There could be no room for doubts, not this time.

She located a second, cushioned bag for the book and informed Ella to post the letter to Munchkinland.

Shell was not there, and it did not cross her mind to leave a note or anything, however small, informing him of her actions. He likely already knew regardless. Her mind was set and her determination was controlling her actions by now.

Pushing the anxiety forming in her chest to the back of her mind, she focused on what needed to be done as she retrieved her bags and prepared to leave.


	9. Chapter 9

There were only a handful of people on the journey with her, few enough that she doubted the leader of the train was making enough money to possibly justify leaving the City. Surely the woman could have waited until there was a higher demand; more people equals more profit after all. Not that Glinda was in a position to complain, if it weren't for the train she doubted she would have been able to get to the Vinkus in time.

The group sent to… dispose of Elphaba, were set to leave less than a week after her own departure. Or so she was told by an eager Ella. Though, if Shell's assumption that this was just a scare tactic was incorrect, who was to say they had not already left? That, perhaps, the small groups she was travelling with may even include those very same people?

It was an odd thought, one that came from nowhere and struck her chest painfully, and in her confusion she kept her distance from the others, studying them perhaps a bit too intently.

In the end, however, it became obvious that while most of the group appeared to be composed of natives returning home for whatever reasons they had, the few others were adventurers. Tourists was perhaps a better term to use.

She would rather mar herself than ever repeat the experience of the journey, she was not brought up to cope with such ordeals. Yet, despite her struggles and frequent wishes to return to civilisation, she soldiered on with her chin held high and a determined set to her form.

This was not for her, at the end of the day, this was for someone else. Someone dear. And quite possibly for the good of so many other innocent people – which was the main reason, she reminded herself. That was what she continued to tell herself as she looked over the book in a secluded corner of their camps, trying to understand why now it no longer seemed to work.

Following the words of a book on a whim was laughable at best, and if it turned out to be a dead-end she would be left in a foreign land waiting desperately for the caravan to return after, presumably, winter. Then again, if it did turn out to be true… well then it was a chance worth taking.

And really, the scenery was rather beautiful, she doubted it was something she would ever see or experience again in her lifetime after she returned to the City. So why not appreciate it? Which she did, with a rapidly building enthusiasm. The architecture of nature comes close to, but had yet to surpass, some of the great words she had seen built by man's own mortal hands.

* * *

There was an old, almost toothless man that caught her attention after a few days. Maybe it was simply because he was not as overbearing as some of the others on the trip, he kept to himself and spent most of his days whittling at various blocks of wood as he whistled. She was unsure where exactly all of it was coming from, but she chose to keep to her manners and so did not question him. There was something almost hypnotising about the process of creating something from nothing, she had never thought she would find such simple, primitive work, so interesting.

After a few days of watching his work, seeing how he turned an ugly block of wood into a horse, or her favourite, a beautiful pfenix carved out of some rich, red coloured wood. She realised she did not know his name, something that previously would not have bothered her suddenly did.

When he had first noticed her interest in his work, he had beckoned her closer, and every day after that they could be found seated near or next to one another. Him with his figures, she with her book.

His name was Haumann, at least that is what she thought he said, his accent was thick and the loss of so many teeth did not help her understanding.

If she were still vain, little Galinda his appearance would have disgusted her. Instead she felt drawn to the kindness of the man, for it reminded her of her dear, sweet Ama. Quickly she found herself speaking more and more with him, inquiring about things that previously had never once crossed her mind. Not even in her most droll and idle thoughts.

She asked him if there was still a big demand for whittled items, for she had not seen many items like that in a long time. Sure some of her social circle would purchase such items when they travelled elsewhere as 'native curiosities', but that was about it. In fact the last time she saw an item like his was back in Colwen Grounds. The damaged bird that Frex treasured so.

Oh.

The realisation dawned on her like the rising sun over the mountains they saw each morning. Frex treasured that small, insignificant item. One that many would have disposed of as soon as it showed even a hint of damage. He carried it in his pocket; cradled it like a real, living bird as he stood at that window mourning the 'loss' of his oldest child.

She wondered…

* * *

Years of secretly studying architecture, learning about and observing all the tiny, mostly over looked details had given her quite the eye and memory for remembering such things. Something she was extremely grateful of, and rather proud of herself for, as she instructed Haumann on the appearance of that damaged wooden bird of Frex's.

All based on a hunch of hers, one that could prove to be very, very wrong. Much like this whole trip in actual fact. However, unlike the trip if this hunch turned out to be wrong, then it was no loss for her or the whittler, he would be paid and she would be able to keep the figure as a memento of him and the trip. Not that she was enjoying the journey in question or anything.

She had to fill in a lot of the details by herself, as she had only seen the figure from a distance and it was very damaged. Once again, it was thanks to her study of architecture that it was not as much of a struggle as it could be. As well as modern and well-kept old buildings she had studied a lot of abandoned and dilapidated buildings. Filling in gaps and picking up on signs of what the worn down work used to look like.

Over the course of a few days, the last few in the trip, Haumann focused on the work for her. He discarded many partially completed figures as there was something wrong with them, or Glinda remembered some other small nuisance of the original carving that they lacked.

On the last day she, and he, were finally satisfied with it. They stood at their final destination, a small village at the foot of a mountain, as he held the product of their work out towards her. Glinda beamed at the figure as if she herself had created it, which in a way she had, they both had.

"Thank you so very much for doing this for me." It was a bit of a struggle, one hand clasping the bag containing the book, the other rooting through her other bag for her money. Fully intent on giving Haumann a more than sizable amount for his work.

The whittler shook his head, grinning gummily.

"A gift."

"No. I insist –

"A gift," he repeated, pressing the figure towards her. Placing her bag down, she took it hesitantly.

"I – I do not know what to say. I really must give you something…"

He shook his head once more, holding out his closed fist. Glinda's brow scrunched, but she placed her own hand, palm open and up beneath his own hand. He opened his fingers dropping what he was holding into her grasp.

"Oh!"

Just to make sure she was seeing correctly she held the item up and, sure enough, the object he had given her was that small, pfenix figure she had complimented so much.

"Gift for you also."

"Please – " She pleaded, "Let me give you _something_."

The whittler declined, leaving Glinda feeling a mixture of guilt but also flushed delight that she had made such an impression.

As he bid goodbye, slinging his bag over his shoulder and departing with a whistle, she realised she would actually miss him.

Both figures were held like treasures in her hand.

* * *

Finding someone to take her the rest of the way was a harder feat than she had believed it to be. She had been certain that the people here, a village so far from civilisation and appearing so primitive than what she was used to, would be more opened minded – meaning not completely taken in by The Wizard's words. There had been no verbal conformation of that particular belief of hers, but why else would they be so quick to decline to take her to Kiamo Ko?

She stuck out like a sore thumb, smaller than the people here and with fair skin and hair. She had never felt so out of place and judged. Was this how she had once made others feel?

Communication was also more difficult than she foresaw, she had assumed they would be fluent in Ozian here, as she knew that it was a requirement in Munchkinland and Gillikin to learn the language fluently before graduating. She did have the benefit of being able to complain to herself in Gillikinese without offending anyone, but that was only a small positive.

In the end, with no other option forthcoming, she began the walk up the mountain trail. She could not see the castle, but she was fully aware it was built on the side of that very mountain, or so she had been informed when seeking where in the Vinkus the castle was. She was certain it would come into view soon and was simply not observable from the village. It would be a long trek, one she did not have the shoes to make without a lot of blisters and pain, but she had no other choice.

Who knew? Perhaps she would find someone on the way who would be willing to take her the rest of the way.

The village was still quite a large shape on the horizon behind her when she stopped in her tracks. A quickly approaching rattle catching her attention.

Stopping was definitely not the smartest decision of hers, for as soon as she stopped herself the pain that had built in her feet seemed to explode outwards, leaving her struggling to remain standing. It left her wanting to do nothing more than sit down on the ground, and put no more weight on her feet for the foreseeable future.

Over the brow of the hill came an ox drawn cart. The old man driving it peered at her curiously as he drew closer, the wheels of the cart slowing as he did. She turned, feeling decidedly uncomfortable for reasons she could not begin to explain, and resume walking, her body screaming at her to let her feet rest.

"Are you alright Miss?" He called, the cart drawing up alongside her, still slowing as it did.

"I am fine," she replied, automatically haughty, not the best way to convince the stranger to give her a lift the rest of the way. "I am travelling to Kiamo Ko castle. I have already inquired after a lift there, and despite my offering payment, no one has been accommodating of my request."

The old man shifted, scratching at the white hair on his chin as he narrowed his eyes at the ox pulling the cart. He hummed to himself for a moment before nodding his head, "Can do that, most of the way."

Well, that was better than nothing she supposed. And it was both a relief to find someone who she was able to communicate with well and for her feet to finally have a rest. Even if the price she had to pay was sitting in the back of a hay strewn cart that had most definitely seen better days.

"Thank you for your kindness."

The driver grinned at that, the skin around his eyes crinkling as Glinda hurried to the back of the cart, placing her bags on it before pulling herself up rather ungracefully. The man had the lack of manners not to help her, but also enough of them not to watch as she made a fool of herself.

He gave her a good length of time to settle before he looked over his shoulder to check on her. Once satisfied, he turned to the ox and the cart began to move forward at a steady pace.

Rather than fold her legs at an angle beneath her as was proper, Glinda allowed her moment of anonymity to grant her some freedom as she stretched her legs before her. Wiggling her toes in her shoes and rotating her feet, she tried to relieve the pain that was now throbbing in them. It would be a swifter process if she removed her shoes, but there was only so far she would be willing to stretch her lessons of propriety.

"Why it is you want to go there of all places?"

Startled by the man's voice it took Glinda a moment to register just what he had asked.

"There is someone there I was once close to." It was a bit of a challenge for Glinda to both answer his question while at the same time staying vague, if The Wizard knew where Elphaba was than who was to say that the people who actually lived near to there did not also know?

"Really?" The man asked, his voice filled with surprise. Enough so that it caught Glinda's attention, a tension settling into her muscles as she stared at the back of the man's dark shirt.

Why was he so shocked?

"Didn't think there were many left."

Glinda's brow furrowed in an almost childish manner as her confusion over the man's words settled on her features. Maybe it was a mistranslation, perhaps the man had not meant to use those particular words.

She did not want to be rude and point out that he may have made a mistake, not when he was the only reason she was not still on a never-ending trek (what in Oz would she have done once night had begun to fall and she was still nowhere near the castle? She really hadn't thought her plan through had she?) A question was needed, one that would get her what she needed to know, one that would clear the air of her confusion while maintaining the amiability of their fledgling companionship.

"How many people reside there?" Another benefit from the question was that the answer would allow her to know who to expect – which might help her prepare herself. To know who she needed to greet, to share her intentions with, perhaps even have some assistance in her dealings with Elphaba. But his earlier words made her doubts seep in, was there anyone besides Elphaba there?

"There used to be a lot."

"Used to be?"

"Gone now. All of them." The man's shoulders raised in a shrug, his hands gripping the ox's reins loosely.

"You are taking me to an empty building?" For she knew that could not be the case.

"Well, there's The Witch. Most folks scared of her. If you had any sense you would be too." He looked over his shoulder to her again, "But not my place to change your mind. Not when you're paying me."

"I've never been noted for my mind, or my senses." Her posture changed as she spoke, ignoring the need to stretch her legs out she tucked them beneath her, giving of an imposing air. A defensive reaction, perhaps, but one she suddenly felt justified for, "What happened to the others who resided there?"

"In the past now. No need to worry about it."

She disagreed with his words, but now was not the time for arguments. Instead, to distract herself, she watched what she could see of the village disappear as they made their slow way to her destination.

* * *

It was dark by the time they arrived some distance from the castle. She would have been certain it was abandoned if not for a solitary glow in a single window high up in the sky.

The man had long ago drawn a lantern from somewhere, lighting it before setting it beside him. Even with the light source present on the journey, Glinda had felt unsettled, as if someone was lurking in the shadows surrounding them, waiting to pounce. As those fears had grown so did her realisation that she had trusted a stranger to take her where she wanted, a stranger in a land where she had never set foot, nor even knew the native language.

It was not her smartest decision ever.

Even so, she was there now, and nothing disastrous had occurred to her on the journey.

Upon jumping down from the carriage, Glinda paid the man a decent sum, not as much as she original would have. She felt justified in doing so for he had not answered all of her questions as she would have liked. Still, he seemed pleased by the amount which annoyed her more than it should, in the City it would be offensive to only tip that amount, a nonverbal scolding that would be acknowledged internally by the recipient. Here, however, it was not. She should have realised that it would not receive the same reaction in the Vinkus.

She was tired. That was quite possibly the cause for her mistake. Weariness from the long journey there with the carriage, her walking and now here; with the man and his ox.

With no more words likely to be exchanged, Glinda moved to take her first tentative steps towards the imposing structure when a new, gruff voice cut in with a wish for good luck.

Her forehead creasing she turned back to the elderly man that brought her there, but his attention was elsewhere. Her eyes were caught, then, by movement at the front of cart. The nodding head and knowing eyes of the ox.

Froze in that moment she could only stare as the bulky creature bow its head and the carriage began its return journey to the village in the foot of the hills. She wondered idly where the man had originally intended to go, for he had been travelling in the same direction as her. But that did not last longer than a moment.

Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs of sleep from her head, she turned back to the castle, moving towards the grand door she could see.

It seemed to take longer than she imagined to reach the outer walls of the castle, followed by the disused courtyard. The darkness that swallowed the surrounding area as she and the cart drew away in opposite directions, did not help matters. Her heart hammering with each step, in the City there were always people around and lights even during the darkest, latest parts of the night. This was eerie, something she had never truly experienced.

She gasped.

Her heart jumping to lodge in her throat as some great beast charged her, jumping and barking, trying to reach her face as its great paws dug into and stained her dress. She stumbled backwards, her heels catching the ground beneath her oddly, her bag dropped with a thump to the ground. The one that contained the book swinging, still clasped strongly in her hand.

"Damnable mutt."

Glinda looked up from her struggle, one hand grasping a furry foreleg, the other trying to push her book between her and the beast.

One half of the door had opened, light spilling across the cobblestones and weeds of the courtyard from a lantern that trembled in old hands.

The beast jumped down, racing to the open door and sliding through a gap into the castle.

Regaining her footing and reclaiming her other bag, Glinda gasped for breath and found she could utter only one, confused word.

"Nanny?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Once again, thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and those that also review, it means a lot. Thank you.**

* * *

Glinda cupped both of her hands around a chipped cup, absorbing as much warmth as the liquid inside it could offer her. She and Nanny were huddled around a table before a fire in the kitchen, from the drag lines in the brickwork of the floor, it had not always been there.

"It weren't always like this Dearie, not like this at all."

"I heard." Glinda replied, sensing an opportunity to receive some answers she continued, "What exactly happened?"

Nanny chugged a large amount of her own drink – Glinda was not entirely sure what it was, possibly a local tea? The aftertaste was almost fruity and it had a deep indescribable flavour – the old woman seemed unaffected by the temperature of the liquid.

"Get used to it after a while."

"Used to what?" All this time and Nanny had remained the same; if she did not want to answer something she always resorted to the old 'hearing problems' she 'suffered'. Glinda would either have to try to receive an answer again, or wait for Nanny to randomly explain whenever she felt like doing so.

"The cold."

Ah.

Though Glinda doubted that. Stepping into the castle was akin to stepping into a storeroom for meats, far colder inside than out. Maybe it had something to do with the brickwork. Strange though, even the oldest of buildings were built in a way to conserve heat, this one however…

"It is good to see you Nanny, I had no idea what happened to you." And really it was good to see a friendly face, for the most part.

Nanny hummed contently, appearing almost identical to how she was when Glinda had first met her, almost as if she had reached that age and just froze in time. Never to grow another day older. If only the same could be said for –

"And we had no idea you were coming here."

_We._ Glinda frowned into her drink as she took a cautious sip. She had already scolded her tongue once before, and was loath to repeat it. Returning her cup to the table, she asked another question in the hopes of receiving an answer, "How did you know to come here?"

How had Elphaba? Or the Wizard's assassins?

…Though she had her suspicions, ones she could not bear to acknowledge, not yet.

"How did you?" Nanny responded, mimicking Elphaba's habit of cryptic answers before adding, "To be honest I don't rightly remember anymore."

"How long have you been here?" Glinda asked, diverting her attention elsewhere upon catching the sound of shuffling outside the door. She eyed the door wearily, afraid that the beast from before had found her again, as Nanny pondered over her answer or whether to acknowledge it at all.

"Don't rightly remember that either." The old woman finally replied, her bleary eyes focus on the ceiling in thought.

Finally certain the door was not about to burst open in the wake of some furry creature, Glinda returned her full attention to Nanny, "You should have sent word. When you first arrived."

"So what?"

"I would have…" But Glinda found she could not finish her sentence, for what would she have done? Would she have come running, so soon after her marriage? Would she have risked her standing as she was now? Without the years upon years of growth? No. Probably not. "I am here now. That is what matters."

Nanny hummed again, abandoning her cup on the table as she stood, waddling towards the very same door Glinda had been focused on before, leaving behind a lantern beside the door.

"Old bones need rest," she muttered to herself as she yanked the door open revealing the, thankfully, empty and dark corridor.

"Where am I supposed to go?" Glinda jumped to her feet; picked up her cup, placed it back down and picked it up once more.

Nanny shrugged her large shoulders as she moved down the corridor into the darkness, her voice echoing back, "Anywhere. Don't rightly matter where, no one in these rooms anymore anyway."

Hesitating for a moment, Glinda took after Nanny, a cup held in one hand, two bags clutched in her other. The old woman, however, moved surprisingly fast even in the dark and as such, was already gone. Leaving Glinda alone in the empty, cold building, jumping at the faintest sound of scurrying in the distance.

* * *

She had found a suitable room after a few false starts the night before, glad that she had the good sense to seize the lantern from the kitchen before wandering away too far. From the light layer of dust, and the neatness of the rest of the room she assumed it to be an old guestroom that had not seen just that, a guest, in a long time before the previous occupants of the castle had left.

Still, residing in an unfamiliar dwelling, enveloped in cold air and sheets she was certain were for summer weather, had all resulted in a terrible night's sleep. Thankfully bad enough that she was not plagued by any dreams, let alone her nightmares.

She left the stowing away of her few belongings until the morning, placing them in their usual places. The book, however, she left in its bag along with the two wooden figures and hid it in a gap between bed and bedside table, confident it could not be seen unless one were purposefully hunting for something concealed. She could not be certain why she decided to hide the book, only that a prickling feeling in the back if her mind encouraged her to do so.

With a grumbling stomach, and the growing realisation that she had not eaten for a significantly long amount of time, Glinda left her room to wander in the general direction she thought she had travelled down the night before.

Even with the sun high in the sky, the corridors of the castle were dark and narrow. Glinda wondered if she should keep the lantern with her, just to fight back the shadows during the day as much as the darkness of the night.

Ignoring proper manners, Glinda still wore her travelling cloak, anything to gain even a little bit more warmth. She wrung the edges of the cloak beneath the clasp with a hand, her pale skin growing pinker the longer she walked. She cast her eyes about, just in case the beast from the night before came bounding out of the shadows to maul her again.

She eventually found Nanny in the same place as the night before, with thankfully no furry creature in sight.

The old woman was fussing over a pot of some gruel looking substance, digging out a ladleful to put into a bowl, the appearance of the gloop took Glinda back to her first days at Colwen Grounds.

Nanny turned with a jump, surprise written across her face. "Oh!" She exclaimed, pressing a meaty hand to her chest, "I forgot you were here."

It didn't take her long to calm, and soon she was gesturing roughly with her thumb over her shoulder.

"Bowls are in a cupboard over there, go get one."

Glinda did just that, though it took some time as there were many different cupboards and Nanny was not supplying any help in finding the correct one. Glinda's nose scrunched in distaste at the worn, wooden bowl, not that she had a choice in the matter as that was all there was. She returned to the table where Nanny roughly spooned some of the substance into the bowl, sending globs splattering across the stained kitchen table, before thrusting a tarnished spoon in her direction.

Glinda shuffled her chair closer to the lit fire, not caring that it scraped noisily against the floor as she did so. She ate the food cautiously, pausing before each swallow as she had to force herself to continue eating the 'food'. Even the growling hunger that rumbled in the pit of her stomach was not a strong enough motivation for her to eat with enthusiasm, not that the food was unpleasant. It did have an odd aftertaste, one she could not decide whether she liked or not, but other than that it did not really taste of anything. It was the texture that left her feeling ill. Despite that, she was not about to ask Nanny what it was, sometimes it was best not to know.

Glinda waited until they finished before attempting to ask Nanny any questions. She was too slow, however, as the old woman beat her to it.

"Why did you come all this way?" Nanny inquired as she spooned another hefty amount of the substance into her bowl, licking her chapped lips as she did so, "You never seemed the type to travel so far."

"Nor did you." Glinda, though still hungry, pushed her bowl away from her, careful that neither her cloak nor dress were soiled by the food. It seemed coarse enough that it would eat clear through the decent material of her clothing, "Where is Elphaba?"

"Oh her?" Nanny said offhandedly, shrugging off the comment as if it were not the one, clear reason that Glinda was there. Not that Nanny would be aware of that, of course. "Probably doing something sinister and secretive, don't see her so much anymore."

Glinda doubt the old woman saw much of anything anymore.

The book had been correct, a fact that should have lightened Glinda, but for some reason it didn't. Perhaps it was the knowledge of just how powerful it was, what it could do in the wrong hands that still weighed her down. Or maybe it was something else, something she could not quite grasp.

"Where is she?" Glinda tried again, not in the mood for any of Nanny's games. Glinda had already wasted enough time, even if she had left with a semi-decent length of time between her and whoever it was The Wizard had sent. Swiftness was still key.

Nanny huffed, swallowing a large mouthful of her breakfast, one of her eyes narrowing at Glinda – not that Glinda was all that bothered about offending her in that moment. "In the tower." Nanny snapped, gesturing aggressively over her shoulder again, "The one over in that direction."

Ah. Now that should have been something Glinda had realised herself, for had she not seen a light last night high up the castle walls? She had been unable to tell, but it was entirely possible that the source of the light was indeed in a tower. She had not been outside in the daylight in order to check.

Nanny promptly returned to shovelling the food into her mouth, choosing to ignore Glinda, which the young woman was more than alright with.

Glinda stood to her feet and left the kitchen with quick steps, unsure where she was going. She only knew that there would be a lot of steps to climb. Her faint guide to the tower her weak, incomplete mental imagine from the previous night. But she had always been skilled at filling in the details.

* * *

It made her stomach churn.

The open rafters, the crows perched on them letting their droppings fall carelessly; the air that was far colder than any she had felt in recent memory. The array of refuse and papers left strewn around the room with no care. The leak that found some way through her clothes and cloak to drop down the back of her neck, leaving her shivering and jumping at the feeling with a sharp shriek.

A moving heap of black cloth in the corner of the room sent her stumbling backwards, she caught herself on the edge of a soiled desk, barely avoiding sending a half full bucket of water (to catch the leak?) flying in her surprise.

The cloth grew in size, until she realised that it was not something terrifying or otherworldly, beneath the ragged material there was indeed the shape of a person. A familiar one at that.

"Elphaba?"

"What have I told you about using _that_ name?" Elphaba turned, her words dripping with venom. If she was surprised to see who it was that disturbed her, Glinda could not tell as the other woman's eyes remained narrow, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Galinda Arduenna."

"I've already told you, I go by Glinda now." Her words were flat, automatic, as she found her mind buffeted by an array of thoughts and feelings.

Elphaba's face remained emotionless, her eyes however burned with conflicting emotions. Emotions that made Glinda's heart tighten, not in the way it once did, but rather with a sense of undeniable dread.

"Elp –

Glinda tried, only to be cut off by Elphaba's rapid change of expression. Her mouth downturned and forehead creasing in rage.

"Do _not_ use that name." She gestured aggressively to the window, which Glinda now saw had no glass, allowing a strong gust of wind to hit them at that moment, sending hair and clothes awry. "They wanted a witch and so a witch I became."

What had happened to her Elphie? For the woman who stood before her was even more fearsome than the one she had met at dear Nessie's funeral. The one before her was every bit the embodiment of 'The Witch' that Glinda had heard of, but had never believed existed – not truly.

"Elphaba…"

"The Witch!" Elphaba snapped, "That is who I am now!"

And, Glinda realised with trepidation, that she was.

"Why are you even here?" Elp – The Witch snapped as the crows above cawed, their dark, beady eyes glaring at Glinda.

This time when Glinda felt her heart constrict it was for entirely different reasons, "The Wizard has sent a group to dispose of you."

"You?"

Glinda's lips parted, her eyes widening in surprise. How could Elphaba even _think_ that? "No. Of course not. I don't know who they are, only that they are on their way here."

Elp – The Witch – she reminded herself, for the woman standing before her was a far departure from the woman she knew – tilted her head back, a short bark of humourless laughter leaving her.

"You expect me to believe you?"

The blonde's hands tightened into fists at her side, her lips pressing into a thin line, "You think I would travel this far simply to _lie_ to you. I haven't even washed yet!"

And that was simply revolting, but she had more important things on her mind than proper hygiene – as disgusting as that was to even acknowledge.

The Witch snorted at her, moving like a predator sizing up their prey, her hand trailing over the cover of some oversized book as she paced before her. "How do I even know you are real? A figment perhaps, it wouldn't be the first."

The Witch murmured to herself, as if she was crazed. Glinda's ire wavered then, for perhaps she was. Perhaps her mind had been damaged – had she not thought something similar not too long ago? It was difficult to remember sometimes.

So, Glinda did the only thing she could think of when confronted by a reality that frightened her. She ignored it. "It wasn't an easy journey." A basic fact that should show Elphaba, who she still knew was in there somewhere, just how far she was willing to go for her. Belated effort or not.

"Some people will do anything to get what they want."

The words were not what Glinda expected, but Elphaba had a habit of being a tad too rough with her word choice at times. Almost like a form of self-defence, it was not something unfamiliar or uncommon to her.

"Exactly. I needed to warn you, and…and you left before I was able to tell you just –

The Witch shook her head almost violently, her smile cruel, "Anything to get your precious title."

A cold, icy feeling that had nothing to do with the building washed over Glinda from head to toe. The blonde tried to bring moisture back to her suddenly dry throat, small pinpricks pressing into the corners of her eyes.

"No. No, no, Elphaba that isn't –

"That name is meaningless now. You should know that, residing in luxury and fear as you do."

The Eminence? Is that what she thought Glinda was here about? Had she not just told her the reason? The very important, life threatening reason?

Glinda took a step forward, her hand rising between them as if to reach out. The look in the other woman's eyes was enough for Glinda's hand to drop back, uselessly to her side.

"The title is meaningless to me. I was going to fix what I could, I only accepted to stop the position from being abolished." Perhaps a white lie, but was the purpose of them not to bring comfort to a person. To hide a truth that could be deemed painful? "I already told you."

"Still keeping to the same lies, I see." The crows' calls were louder now, almost as if they too were just as hateful towards the smaller woman. A few hopped down, sending black feathers flying about as they perched on tables and chairs. Glinda took a step back, feeling hounded, but it was not enough to calm her rapidly building nerves nor the tension filling her small frame.

"It is not a lie Elphaba!" Glinda all but spat, her face twisted with her sudden rage, with her desperation to get through to Elphaba, through to that sensible woman she once knew. Not this – this bitter creature standing before her. At the very least she needed to get her to understand just how much danger she was now in, "That group will be here soon. They will kill you if you remain here."

The Witch charged then, the distance between them shrinking as the moved in to Glinda's personal space. Her towering from bring forth a feeling of cowardice and outright fear in Glinda, "Get out." She snarled, as Glinda found herself retreating backwards until she teetered dangerously on the top step of the stairs leading into the tower, "You are no more welcome here than the others are."

Glinda had enough sense still about her to pick up on that word – others?

"Elp –

But she was cut off; barely catching herself on the wall to her left as The Witch pushed her hard enough to force her down some of the steps. The door slammed then. Leaving Glinda in darkness, her breath coming out in short pants, her heart beating a fearful tempo as she heard the slide of a lock.


End file.
